Sacrifices
by MountainAir
Summary: What would have happened if Katniss had tried to kill herself for Peeta to live in the Quarter Quell? How would Peeta and Finnick react? How would she be saved, and what would happen afterwards? Katniss & Peeta fluff! Varying POVs.
1. Chapter 1

...

I stare up into the blue sky of the arena, imagining an invisible line that swoops over top of us, trapping us in this hell hole. That's what it feels like to be in an arena - trapped. But that doesn't mean that there isn't anything for us to do to save ourselves.

That is, of course, if you aren't me. I mean, sure, my death isn't _guaranteed._ If all goes as planned, we'll be saved before I'm blown to bits or cut to pieces. But if anything comes up, I need to be prepared to throw myself infront of death to protect Katniss Everdeen - to protect the Rebellion.

I glance over at her, and see her standing up. Peeta tries to get up with her, but she pushes him back down gently. "It's alright, Peeta. I'm just going to get some more water, and you need your rest. Finnick can come with me," she says. Then she glances up at me and something gleams in her eyes. Lust? Admiration? I wouldn't be surprised. She's only human, after all.

"Are you sure, Katniss?" he asks. I can tell straight away that this guy doesn't trust me alone with Katniss. His eyes keep flickering back to me, as if he's expecting me to jump at them with my trident. Not that seeing him squeal wouldn't be hilarious, of course.

"She'll be _fine, _Lover Boy," I say, earning a glare. "It'll be dark soon, and we don't want to be out and wandering about while the Careers are hunting. We should get going."

I grap the basket for the water and turn around, expecting to see Katniss right behind me. Instead, she stands next to Peeta hesitantly, grasping his hand.

I almost laugh at their attachment to eachother, but I can't bring myself to do it. After all, if Annie were with me in a similar situation to theirs, we'd be inseperable, too. Pain wraps itself around my chest for a moment, squeezing at my heart like a snake is wrapped around it.

I try not to think about Annie, because if I do, I'll be taken over by the same guilt I felt as I left her, knowing what I had to do. Her tears and the desperate look in her eyes almost made me change my mind. But I have to do this - for Annie, for myself, for everyone.

Leaving that thought behind, I say, "We'll be back in five minutes, tops."

I frown at Katniss' expression. She looks so pained, so _guilty, _to be leaving him.

Peeta must have noticed it, too, because he narrows his eyes. "What's wrong, Katniss? You've been acting weird."

She laughs emotionlessly and looks away, into the forest. "We're in an arena again, Peeta. What'd you expect?" She tries to pass of her strange behaviour, but it's not working. At all.

He takes her hands in his own and brings his forehead down against hers. "Just hurry, 'kay?"

She nods, and pulls away.

We start our walk farther into the forest. As soon as we're out of sight, she brings the stile over to the tree to fill it up. I stand with my back to hers, keeping watch. I can't hear anything other than the occasional squatter of animals and rustle of leaves and branches.

"Finnick," she says. Her voice sounds strained.

I spin around suspiciously. She's brought the spile down and is fumbling around in her pocket.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

She brings out a pearl. "Make sure Peeta gets this back, will you?"

Her piercing gray eyes bore into mine with such intensity that I almost shrink back. I don't, of course.

"Tell him that I love him," she whispers. "He needs to know." She closes her eyes, and her expression turns so fragile that I wonder if this is the same girl I watched in last year's games. She doesn't look half as fiercely seductive as she once did.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

She steps towards me, so close that I can smell her. Her scent is hard to describe, like nature and sweat and flowers. It's surprisingly pleasant.

"I thought you'd know by now, Finnick." She pulls out a knife that she'd had in her belt. "There can only be one winner in these Games, and I know who I want it to be. Last year he tried to save me, and now it's my turn to save him. Just, please, Finnick, _protect him._ As long as you can."

Katniss has tears in her eyes, something I don't ever remember seeing apart from the time the little girl from District 11 was killed. My brain isn't functioning, so it takes me too long to understand what she's saying before she plunges the knife into her own stomach.

"_No!" _I scream. Her mouth opens in shock, and I stand there helplessly, terrified that she's going to die. Katniss Everdeen is the only chance we have of taking down the Capitol, and she has a knife sticking up to the hilt in her stomach.

She falls to her knees and pulls the knife from her stomach with a cry of anguish. "For... Peeta," she gasps. Blood spurts from her mouth. "Protect him, Finnick. Promise... promise me you will." Tears start falling from her face as her shirt becomes soaked with her blood.

I hear loud footsteps stomping through the forest, coming closer and closer. I turn from Katniss unwillingly, preparing to throw my trident at our attacker. But it's only Peeta, and as soon as his eyes find Katniss, I wish it'd been someone else. His face is the most painful thing I have ever had to look at.

"_NO!_" he screams. "Katniss!" He sprints over to her side just as she falls over, sobbing. "No, no, no, no, no."

I break free from my frozen state and rush back over to them. "Move, Peeta!" I say harshly. He doesn't flinch, just rocks back and forth brokenly, holding the soaked body of the girl he loves in his arms.

"Stay awake, Katniss. Don't close your eyes," he cries. "Look at me. Just keep looking at me."

She complies, her mouth trembling as it fills with more and more blood. "Love you... Peeta."

I don't let her finish her goodbyes. I shove Peeta away, taking Katniss in my own arms. "Call to your mentor!" I yell at him. I don't wait to see if he does. Concentrating on not moving Katniss' stomach around too much, I cut away her shirt with my knife. She whimpers as I wrap the material around her wound, trying to stop the bleeding. The blood is too much, and I know that she doesn't have much hope. We're going to lose her. The Rebellion won't happen.

The ticking of a clock inside my own head increases my panick, and I want to tune it out, but I can't. It's like there's someone in my brain, telling me that her time is limited.

"Please, Haymitch, send something. Please," Peeta sobs to the sky. Tears prick my own eyes as I imagine how awful the poor guy must be feeling.

Nothing comes, and he runs back over to us. I've managed to stop most of the bleeding, but her face is as white as a sheet. Her eyes start to flutter shut, but Peeta forces her to keep looking at him again. He tries to reassure her, but it seems hypocritical when he's crying so hard that I'm pretty sure he's snotting on himself.

I'm the only one who notices the parachute that falls from the sky.

I hand Katniss over to Peeta gently and run over to it, ripping it open. Inside is a needle with clear liquid inside it.

"Peeta," I call out. He doesn't answer.

I turn around and see that Katniss' eyes have closed, despite Peeta's attempts. That is _not _good.

"No, Katniss! Don't die, you can't leave me," Peeta cries. I feel horrible just watching this. What if it had been Annie?

_No. _I don't let myself think about that. There's a problem at hand that needs to be solved _right now. _

I run back over to her and don't hesitate before slamming the needle into her arm. Her body jerks, but she doesn't reopen her eyes. Panicked, I lean my head down to check for a pulse. It's weak, but it's there.

Lover Boy is looking so hopeless and broken that I grap his hand and bring it over to where her heart is. His eyes widen when he feels it beating lightly.

"Is she going to be okay?" he asks desperately.

"I don't know."

I wrap up her wound with the first aid kit we have, and then there's nothing left for us to do but wait. I keep track of her heartbeat, making sure that it stays strong enough for survival. The bleeding has definitely stopped, and miraculously, after a few minutes, her face visibly becomes more coloured. Peeta has taken her head in his lap and is stroking her hair gently. His tears haven't stopped for one second since he saw her, and it just makes me hate the people that did this to us even more. If they hadn't forced us into this arena, Katniss wouldn't have had to try to kill herself for her love to live.

I imagine that Peeta's thoughts are somewhere close to where mine are, because his expression becomes furious. He tries to hide it, but the hatred and discust in his eyes as he looks up into the sky is undeniable. I know that the cameras won't zoom in on his face in fear of people seeing, but I know that this image will be forever burned into my brain. Whenever I feel like giving up, I'll remember this moment and the way Peeta looked, and I'll become determined again.

I catch his eye, and no words need to pass between us for me to understand the message. They will pay for this.

Katniss stirs in his arms, and we both snap our heads back to look at her. She whimpers before her eyes flutter open. I let out a breath that I had apparently been holding in, and send up a silent prayer to Haymitch Abernathy.

The Mockingjay lives.

...

**Review, please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is probably the last chapter, because this is supposed to take place some time during the Quarter Quell (the rescue still happens). Peeta's POV.**

**Warning: Pretty darn fluffy/cheesy. It was written in an I-Adore-Peeta mood.**

**...**

Katniss' eyes flutter open, and the whole world stops. I tune everything else out around me, not caring about anything but this girl lying infront of me. Her wet gray eyes stare up at mine, at first a bit dazedly, until they clear up and she gasps.

"Peeta!" she exclaims. Her breathing becomes hitched and fast, her chest rising up and down much too quickly to be good. I shush her, still crying like a pathetic baby. My tears haven't stopped for one second since I saw the knife sticking from her stomach. I always knew that something like that was a possibility, but I never imagined anything could pierce me as strongly as that did. Even being sliced by Cato, or bitten by mutts, didn't hurt me half as badly as this has.

Katniss whimpers again, and I pulls her back into my arms, careful not to stir her too much. Her eyes have closed again, but I can tell by the way they're squeezed shut that it's in pain.

"Katniss..." I whisper. I caress her cheeks softly, wiping away any tears that dare to leave streaks down her face. Her hand reaches up and grasps mine tightly, holding onto me like a lifeline.

"Don't leave me, Peeta," she says softly.

"I'd never." I try to stop crying for Katniss' sake, but my tears fall from my face and onto hers before I can do anything to stop them. She doesn't seem to notice, though. Her breathing becomes slower and slower, and I begin to worry.

What if the needle didn't work? What if she's not going to make it after all?

I stop myself right there, because if I let those thoughts take over my head, I know I'll go insane. Just the thought of living in a world without Katniss is unbearable. She's the only reason I keep fighting - so that she can stay protected. If she were gone, I wouldn't be able to see any more beauty in this world, because it would have dissapeared.

I look down at her, taking in her features that become so much more fragile when she sleeps. Her dark lashes are leaving shadows across her cheekbones, and I kiss them lightly. I've calmed down quite a bit having realized that her breathing was only slowing because she was falling asleep. I'm glad that she can still get rest with the pain she must be feeling. That means it can't be that bad.

"You alright?"

I turn to see Finnick sitting cross-legged against a tree nearby. He's staring at Katniss still, but his words are obviously directed at me; I'm the only other person who's conscious.

I take a shaky breath and nod.

"She gave you quite a scare, didn't she?"

I laugh humorlessly. "That's an understatement."

We stay silent for a few minutes as Finnick continues collecting the water that Katniss never finished getting. She's been too busy trying to sacrifice herself for me to live. It's sickeningly ironic how similar the circumstances had been to our berry stunt. Except this time, her love had been real. She's done this to herself for me, because she loves me.

I still can hardly believe it.

After all of the years I'd only dreamed of her even looking in my direction, I never could have imagined us as star-crossed lovers, trying to kill ourselves in the Hunger Games so that the other can live. It's horrible that I've finally gotten her, but in this way.

She was supposed to look at me - _really_ look at me - one day in District 12, and fall in love with me almost immediately, just like I had with her. We were never supposed to fall in love through the Hunger Games. But we had, and now there's no going back for us, even if I want her to be able to live a normal life. Even if it means she has to be with somebody else.

I stroke Katniss' hair as she sleeps. I could probably watch her all day, but all of my crying has taken the energy straight out of me.

"Hey, Finnick," I say. "Would you mind keeping watch for a bit?"

He shakes his head, looking completely lost in his thoughts. I murmur a thanks, and slide down onto the dirt. I've left our sleeping bag all the way back where we were staying, but I figure that we can just pick it up later. I don't want to leave Katniss for one second.

Once I'm lying down, I gently rest Katniss beside me. I want to pull her completely into my arms, but I'm afraid of hurting her, so I settle for draping my arm under her head to support it. With the other, I continue to stroke her face and hair until sleep pulls me under.

...

Katniss is shaking me. I squint my eyes open, and see her smiling down at me. I hardly ever get the pleasure of seeing her smile, so I can't help but return it.

"Morning, Peeta," she says. "You slept for almost eight hours!"

I gawk at her. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You were exausted... after... everything..." She looks away guiltily.

I sit up and take in the new bandages that have just been put onto her stomach. Since Finnick cut away her shirt yesturday, it only goes from about her collarbone to just over her stomach wound. But she seems to be moving around easily, and she isn't wincing.

"Katniss..." My eyes start stinging again. I try to look away, but it's too late, because she's seen.

"I'm so sorry!" She throws herself into my arms, her legs wrapped behind my back. I press my face into her neck as the fright from last night comes back to me. I breathe in her scent, never wanting to let her go ever again. And in that moment, I promise myself that I won't; I will never leave her again.

"I just... I need you to survive, Peeta."

"I can't. Not without you," I whisper, kissing her neck.

Katniss shivers slightly under my touch. Then she pulls back to look at me, her cheeks blazing adorably. "You have to. You and Haymitch vowed to save me the last Games, and now it's your turn to be protected."

I shake my head sadly at her, because she really doesn't understand. "But I wouldn't be happy ever again. I'd never be the same," I tell her.

"At least you could be alive. You can go back to the bakery, go back to your paintings. You don't have to forget me, but I don't want you to never let me go. I did it for _you, _Peeta" she says. She leans forward and presses her cheek against my own. "So you could live."

I want to tell her that I would never go back to my baking or painting before I kill each and every person involved in the Hunger Games if she were to die in them, but I know I can't. The cameras are probably trained exactly on us at this very moment, taking in our every word. If I let myself slip, the Gamemakers will surely punish us in some Godawful way.

Instead, I shake my head at her again, trying to tell her everything with my eyes. I want her to know that I would never rest until they were all dead, and even after that, I would never be able to cope.

Katniss' eyes fill with tears, and I know that she must understand what I'm getting at. I've only seen her cry a couple of times, so the past ten hours or so have been extremely saddening. I've seen lots of people cry in my lifetime, but seeing _Katniss_ crying is by far the worst.

"I know, Peeta," she says softly. She moves her face up so that the cameras can't pick up what she's saying, and whispers, "I wouldn't let them take another breath, either."

I move my hands from her own and go to cup her face. I wipe away her tears while I'm at it, then lean forward slowly. She knows what I'm going for, and closes the distance between us in less than a second. When our lips meet, she makes a quiet sound of pleasure in the back of her throat that makes me want more. Without breaking contact, I gently lay her down on the ground, careful not to put too much pressure on her wound as I lie on top on her.

She breaks away first, looking down and blushing as she tries to regain her breath. When she lifts her gaze, my heart nearly stops. Her gray eyes have a new glow to them, one that I can't place, but they suddenly look a million times more beautiful than before, even. I'd thought it was impossible.

She must notice me gaping, because she whispers, "What?"

I shake my head at her in disbelief, and say, "I've never loved you more than I do right now, and I'll never love you any less."

Her cheeks become even more red than before, and she kisses me softly. "I love you, too, Peeta. I just wish..." She takes a deep breath. "I wish it didn't have to end."

I turn over and let her lie ontop of me instead, wishing she hadn't said that. It's making us both more sad and angry at the Capitol for doing this to us. "Me too," I tell her.

We lie in silence for a while, holding eachother tightly as we're both lost in our thoughts of the future. I wonder what else could possibly happen to us, but at the same time, I don't want to know.

"I want to lie here with you forever," I say. "Never moving forward, never looking back."

She smiles at me, then it falters. "Hey, Peeta," she says. "Do you know what this reminds me of?"

I shake my head.

"The roof, in the Capitol. When we were watching the sunset."

I remember that day, too. I remember playing with her hair and studying her stunning features - the features she probably doesn't even realize are incredibly captivating and beautiful. I smile down at Katniss and say, "I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever."

She tries to smile back at me, but it keeps breaking until she finally breaks down in tears again. She sobs into my shoulder, and I feel knives stabbing into my heart with each tear that leaks down her face. I want to take away all of her pain. I want to take her away with me, somewhere where there are no Hunger Games and no people trying to kill us for entertainment. Somewhere we can be happy together, forever.

I dream of a better world without pain and destruction, a place where there are no people controlling us and taking away our lives.

Katniss whimpers into my shoulder as her cries die down, and I stroke her back. I whisper soothing words to her until she lifts her face back up to look at me. Her eyes are bright red and glistening, and she stares at me with so much longing. I want to take away all of her pain, but I can't. I can only stay locked up in this arena while we wait for one of us - or both - to be killed.

I know that the Gamemakers will send something after us pretty soon, so I blurt out what has been eating away at me. "Katniss, can you promise me something?"

She nods her head cautiously, sniffling.

"Don't _ever _sacrifice yourself for me. Ever."

She kisses me slowly, making it last as long as she can. When she pulls away her eyes are overflowing with tears again, but she manages a weak, "I promise."

**...**

**"I've never loved you more than I do right now, and I'll never love you any less."**

**Man, I'm pretty sure that was the most cheesy thing I have ever written in my entire life. Oh well!**

**Please review! *heart* :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I decided to make another chapter because of ILOVETARARIEGAN's review. I agree, it didn't really seem like it was over yet. This is Katniss' POV.**

**...**

When I wake up, there's a heavy weight on me. I squint my eyes open to see that it's Peeta. I don't remember falling asleep in this position, so he must have moved in his sleep.

I'm lying on my back with my arms draped over him. His entire torso is over top of mine, leaving his head on the opposite side of me than his legs. I need to stiffle a laugh at this, because I don't think there could be any stranger way to be asleep. How can he possibly be comfortable?

But I stop myself, having realized that it would hurt to laugh. The pressure from Peeta's body is, unfortunately, mostly on my knife wound.

"Peeta," I groan. "Wake up."

He doesn't move. I stir under him, trying to recieve some kind of reaction from him. "Get up, Peeta. You're hurting me."

I brush back some of the hair from his face, and almost stop trying to wake him; his face is so peaceful when he sleeps. His long blond eyelashes are leaving light shadows on his cheeks, and his mouth is hanging open a little bit, like usual.

But I know I have to, because it's getting difficult to breathe with this much weight on my wound. Knowing sweet-talking him won't work, I shove him off of me.

"Gah!" he yelps. Peeta flies off of me, but tries to regain his balance by slamming his hand down - you guessed it - right on my wound. I cry out in pain, and double over.

"Oh my god, Katniss!" He flails his hands around helplessly, not sure what to do to help my pain go away. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's... fine," I gasp. But it's obviously not. Wetness is spreading in my bandage, and I'm pretty sure it's not just spilled water. I look down, and sure enough, the entire thing is soon being covered with freshly flowing blood.

"Oh my god," Peeta repeats. His eyes flash upwards towards mine, and they look terrified.

"It's okay, Peeta. I'll be fine. I just need to stop the bleeding and re-bandage it," I tell him. I keep my voice at ease so that he stays calm.

Finnick choses then to come over to us. He takes in my red bandage and doesn't hesitate before pushing me down and taking it off of me. In less than ten seconds he has it off, and is staring down at my cut with a grossed-out expression. Who would've thought that Finnick can be squeemish?

I stop judging him as soon as I get a good look at it myself, because it's even more discusting than Peeta's knife wound - as impossible as I'd thought that'd be.

Somehow seeing all of the blood and torn up flesh makes it a thousand times more painful. I close my eyes, feeling nauseous, and lean back against Peeta. He strokes my hair back from my face and whispers comforts to me. I don't really need them all that badly, but it feels nice knowing that I have him to hold onto when I'm not feeling that hot.

"I need to clean it up so you don't get any infections. This will probably hurt quite a bit, Katniss," Finnick says. He rifles through the first-aid kit and comes out with a yellow tube. It's about two inches long and the labeling on it is too small for me to see.

"What's that?" Peeta asks before I can.

"It's an ointment that prevents infections," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "But unfortunately, it stings like hell."

"Great."

He squeezes it and rubs it onto his hands, then gives me a look that says 'are you ready?' I nod, because really, what other choice do I have? He puts it onto my open cut, and I yelp so loudly that I'm afraid other tributes might hear me and come for us. The ointment burns into my cut like an open flame, the pain more excruciating that anything I've felt in my first Games.

Peeta must've seen my anguish - or heard it - because he's taken my hands in his own and is letting me squeeze the life right out of them. I grit my teeth through it as Finnick rubs it in, but a few whimpers escape me, anyway.

"I told you it'd be painful," Finnick grins at me.

"Yeah. Thanks," I say sarcastically, still panting lightly.

"Maybe now you won't try to stab yourself to death."

I glare at him, and Peeta and I say in unison, "Shut up, Finnick."

He smiles again, then gets back to work. I groan and lean into Peeta more as the stinging increases. He shushes me comfortingly and rests his chin on my head. I decide not to concentrate on the pain, so instead, I listen to Peeta's breathing and try to match it with my own. _In, out. In, out. _

After another few minutes of torture, Finnick puts the ointment away. My cut continues on its horrible burning, but at least I don't need to feel it being rubbed farther into my wound. I look down to see that most of the blood has been cleared away, leaving a gaping hole with skin pealing outwards around it. **(A/N. Gross?) **I gag, but manage to keep my dinner down - or whatever you'd call a small portion of food that was all we could find in this stupid arena.

"I'm almost finished," Finnick tells me, looking up for a quick moment.

I'm worried my voice will come out strained and anguished, so for Peeta's sake, I just nod. Finnick rebandages me, and tells me to lie down for a bit while he goes back to get the stuff we left yesturday. I agree dazedly and fall back against Peeta.

"Sorry for making it bleed again," he blurts. "It's my fault you had to go through that."

"No, it's fine, Peeta. Really. It wasn't so bad," I lie. "At least I had you to hold onto. How are your hands?"

He laughs and flexes his fingers, making a show of proving that they can all function properly. "Good an healthy," he tells me, beaming.

I smile back, thankful that after so much suffering we could still have small moments like these, where we can just be happy without murderous tributes or mutts coming after us. He must be thinking somewhere along the same lines as I, because he gently pulls me closer and kisses my temple.

We stay like that for a while, Peeta holding me and me soaking in his warmth. The burning on my stomach dies down, and by the time Finnick comes back with the sleeping bags, I feel practically as good as new, minus the whole I'm-in-an-arena-to-be-brutally-killed-or-brutally-kill-somebody-else thing. That weight never really dies down.

I know that I've been spending too much time being lovey dovey with Peeta, so as much as I wish I could stay like that forever, I know it's time for me to start fighting back and protecting Peeta. If I want him to come out of this arena alive, without me needing to sacrifice myself, I need to make sure I put myself in the exact situation where it will all work out perfectly - a situation where I'll die and he'll be the last one standing.

...

**I know it's really short... I'm sorry. If you want me to continue, tell me in the review! But you also need to tell me how you want it to be continued if you do. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**This one's for Lana! I'm going to get your meaningless fluffy chapter posted as soon as possible :) Thanks for the reviews!**

**...**

**Katniss' POV**

I stare blankly at the stars, trying to find something significant in the design of our universe, some way to escape from everything and pretend our lives aren't really this hopeless. Finnick is lying next to me, staring at the sky just as expresionlessly as I am.

Ever since Mags was killed, Finnick has been less and less annoying. It's saddening, and it makes me more angry at the Capitol for changing everyone. His cocky, arrogant self is deflating as quickly as a balloon with a hole in itself.

I remember Peeta telling me before our first Games that no matter what happens, the one thing he's wishing for most is to not be changed by them, to not become a piece in their Games. But what control do we have over it now? They're making us into the kind of people who start thinking nothing of the kills they make. Finnick and I killed some people at the bloodbath, and have I thought of them since? Can I even remember what their names were? Even as their faces appeared in the sky several nights ago, all I had felt was numbness.

Am I becoming cold? Am I becoming exactly how they want me to be? A ruthless murderer?

"Mm..."

Peeta interrupts my thoughts, breaking me out of my trance by waking up. We're huddled in a sleeping bag together, his arms wrapped around me comfortably, but my body is stiff.

He lifts his face, his hair a mess and his eyes droopy. "Katniss? What are you still doing awake?" he mumbles.

"Can't sleep," I whisper.

He turns over and looks me over worriedly. "It's Finnick's turn to keep watch. You need to get some rest."

I shake my head. There's no chance that I'll be able to sleep now that these thoughts have passed through my head. I can't bear the thought of the people I hate most turning me into their little pawn; I'd promised myself it would never happen, and now look at where we are.

Completely ignoring the eyes of Finnick and the entire country, Peeta rolls himself onto me so that our faces are just inches apart. I love him more than anything, but I'm really not in the mood for his love. My thoughts are in too much of a dark place for his spark to light up, no matter how much effect he has on me.

I shake my head again, and he stares at me in confusion. "What's wrong, Katniss?" he whispers.

I want to spill all my worries out to him, but I know that I can't. I can't tell him when we have cameras that are probably on us right now. My anger flares again, because I'm sick of not having any privacy.

_Stop your complaining, Katniss, _I think to myself. _There's nothing you can do about that. Not now, not ever. Just concentrate on getting Peeta home safely. Nothing else matters anymore._

I tell myself this, that nothing else matters, but it doesn't stop my chest from burning. I never wanted to die this way. When I was first Reaped into my first Hunger Games, I assumed that I'd die honorably, without becoming a monster. I thought it was the best way to go. But now, being in the arena for the _second _time, I'm worried that I'm going to die as nothing less than a murderer.

"Katniss?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Sorry. Nothing's wrong," I tell him.

He raises his eyebrows and prepares to argue, but the look in my eyes stops him. He shuts his mouth; he knows that what I'm feeling can't be said on camera. "Alright," he says. "But do get some sleep, okay? For me?"

The last bit gets to me. I close my eyes and snuggle back into him, knowing that for his sake, I need to be strong. But still, as I drift off, I know that my dreams won't be safe from my nightmares tonight.

**Peeta's POV**

The knife comes flying straight at me, and time slows. It's like I'm watching from someone else's eyes as I'm about to die. It spins and spirals, headed straight in the direction of my chest. I can't move, I can't breathe, I can't think. I can only acknoledge the fact that this is the end for me. And truthfully, I don't mind so much.

That is, until the reason I was content is flying through the air infront of me - until the knife lodges itself into her chest instead of mine. Her dark braid blurs across my vision, falling and falling and falling until it's sprawled across the forest floor, like her body.

Blood is everywhere. It's all I can see, all I can smell. The blood of the girl I love. The blood of Katniss.

Screams ring out. The screams of the dead tributes, of Finnick, of my own voice even. I want to cover my eyes and ears to block out everything I'm seeing and hearing, but it's no use. There's no way I can escape the harsh reality of what has just happened.

I drop to my knees in pure agony and scream in outrage and heartbreak. Katniss lies infront of me, her eyes wide and ... and dead.

Katniss is dead.

I scream and scream and scream until my throat becomes raw. But still, the heartbroken sounds are all I can hear until they become higher, and more high-pitched.

My chest burns as if a flame is licking up and down it, right over my heart, until it finally breaks the surface of my skin and burns into my heart, organ to flame.

The screams never stop. I can't tell if they are my own, but after a little while, I am able to tell. They aren't my screams, and they never were.

They're the screams of the girl I love, of Katniss.

...

My eyes fly open, wet and as wide as saucers. _It was only a nightmare, _I tell myself. _Only a nightmare._

But as my brain catches up to itself, I realize that the screams I hear aren't just echoing from my horrible dream. Katniss is screaming her head off, right next to me in the sleeping bag.

I clamp my hand over her mouth, terrified that she's leading all of the other tributes to us. Finnick is also trying to quiet her from what I can see. He's running over to us with the bucket of water, I'm assuming so that he can dump it over her head.

It's not necessary, though, because I've woken her up from nightmares numerous times.

"Katniss," I say softly. "Wake up. It's me, Peeta. Wake up."

She stops screaming into my hand, and her eyes pop open, her gray irises flashing with dark specks. I'd never noticed it before, but her eyes darken after each of her bad dreams.

I hold her tight against my body as she cries, just like usual. "Shhh... it's okay, you're safe," I tell her. And with her pressed tightly against me chest, it really feels that way. As if I can protect her from everything that can possibly hurt her, just by shielding her with my own body.

But she shakes her head. "It's not myself I was scared for, Peeta," she sobs.

I close my eyes, because I can relate. I know exactly how it feels to think the person you love more than anything is dying, and there's nothing you can do about it. I've had my share of nightmares like that.

I kiss her face; her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. She calms down with each second of connection my lips make to her skin.

But after a few moments, Finnick interferes. "Just thought I'd let you two know that we have about two minutes before all of the tributes jump out of trees with spears and knives. It would be nice if we got out of here before that happens."

Katniss wipes her face, taking away not only the lingering tears, but also all traces of emotion. Monotonously, she agrees.

"Let's go, Peeta," she says. I follow her, wondering what could have possibly happened in that head of hers to make her act so differently all of a sudden.

...

**Was that too rushed? I'm not sure how I feel about this one in particular. Let me know in a review, please!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Once again, I hate myself for making you guys wait... procrastination seems to be taking over my life. I'm going to make an extra-long chapter for you :) Don't forget... Love it? Hate it? Let me know in your review!**

**XXXXXXXXX****X**

**Katniss' POV:**

Finnick, Peeta and I walk through the forest in silence. We haven't seen any of the other tributes in a couple of days, and so far, no more canons have gone off. I'm surprised that the Gamemakers haven't forced some of us together yet, but I suppose the Capitol audience wanted to see some of my and Peeta's sad romance; they've been eating up this whole star-crossed lover thing like cake. It sickens me, but it makes for some darn good sponsers.

"You know, if Peeta wasn't so loud, I'd think we have a chance," Finnick says. I glare at him, but his complaints are right: Peeta's steps are so loud it's like they're being projected with speakers.

I stay silent, but Peeta sees my expression. He sighs. "I know. Maybe I should just stay up in a tree or something while you guys hunt. I'm scaring away all of the animals, and probably drawing the other tributes towards us."

Finnick nods casually. "Yep, that you are."

We decide to do just that. I show Peeta how to tie himself up in the tree with his belt - just like I'd done many times hunting and in my first Hunger Games - and although he doesn't feel comfortable with heights at all, he doesn't complain or argue.

"So, who's hunting?" asks Finnick. Did he really have to ask?

"Me, of course."

I step past him, and take out my bow and arrows. They both leave me be, and I walk off farther into the trees. As soon as I'm gone from their sight, instead of feeling less protected, I actually feel more relaxed. Although the trees and the atmosphere are much different from the woods of District 12, for these few minutes, I can allow myself to pretend I'm just hunting like any other day, like I'm not actually in an arena preparing to kill at a moment's notice.

I breathe in the scent of dirt, leaves, and nature, and close my eyes absently. I think of Gale, probably sitting at home watching me right now, and a wave of sadness overcomes me. Sadness for the loss of his friendship, sadness for leaving him, sadness for _everthing. _I wish that I'd spoken to him before coming back here, because I never got the chance to tell him that I'm sorry for choosing Peeta over him. I want him to know that I still love him, just not in the way that he wants, and that he has been and always will be my best friend. Another burst of sadness sweeps over me as I realize that I'd never told him that before my fate was decided, before I'd confirmed that this is where I will die.

While thinking about Gale, I wonder how he reacts watching Peeta and I kiss, knowing that I never wanted to marry or have children. He must think I'm a horrible person.

I swallow down the lump in my throat, deciding to just leave the thought alone. I don't want to think of the people I love back home, because then I might try to change the way things are going in the arena. I need to save Peeta, and that's all that's going to be done. He'll go back home to District 12, and he'll live to be an old, happy man. A painter, and a baker. Always the same, always Peeta.

As I think this, I smile and realize that even though things may seem scary now, I'm not afraid to let myself die. Not if I can be sure Peeta will be let out safely.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Peeta's POV:**

Up in the tree, I try not to imagine my belt suddenly unbuckling and sending me flying down to the ground. I trust Katniss enough to know that she's done it tons of times, and knows exactly what she's doing, but I can't help but feel uncomfortable and not-so-safe up here. I suppose it's much safer than being on the ground in plain sight, though.

Like Katniss.

I didn't complain, but having her leaving again has made me extremely panicked. The last time she walked away from me, I found her with a knife lodged in her stomach. It isn't really a memory I'd like to relive, especially while I'm still stuck in this arena.

Finnick stays on the ground infront of the tree, keeping watch and pacing silently. I decide that he must be thinking of his own folks back home - probably of his girl, Annie. I sympathyse him, because even though I've never had to permanently leave Katniss, I _do _know how it feels to love somebody unconditionally and know that you won't ever have your happily ever.

Neither of us hear her when she approaches, but after a long, never-ending hour, Katniss appears with two dead rabbits attached to her belt. The arrows struck right through their eyes, just like usual.

She hands them over to Finnick, and he starts making a fire to cook it all up. It's still light out, so making a fire won't be too dangerous. Thinking of lit fires at night always reminds me of the girl from District 9 in our first Games: the girl who lit a fire at night, and the girl I was forced to kill because the Careers were watching me. It had been horrible, and her screams still haunt me almost every night.

Katniss swings herself up onto my branch quickly, which, naturally, took _me_ a good ten minutes. Luckily, her presence immediately halts my reminiscing.

She doesn't say anything, and neither do I. She moves closer to me, and I pull her almost right onto my lap. We sit quietly for a while, basking in eachother's feel and smell, wishing that these moments never had to end.

_Don't think about that,_ I tell myself sternly. We've both been concentrating too much on what is to be lost, instead of the great things that we've had, of all the things we've experienced and learnt together. Even knowing that one of us - or both - isn't going to come out of here alive, I have no regrets whatsoever; I've finally gotten the girl of my dreams, and we've come farther than I could have ever imagined.

I lean my head down onto Katniss' and wrap my arm around her protectively. I begin to play with her long, dark hair, just like I have so many times on the train. It's soft, and my fingers pass through it smoothly, as if it's silk despite the days we've spent without bathing. I twirl the strands into soft swirls, staring in wonder at the affect they can make when brought together.

Katniss looks up at me curiously.

"I'm practicing my knots," I tell her, and we both smile, remembering back to that beautiful afternoon on the rooftop of the Training Center - one of the few moments we've shared that wasn't tainted or ruined by the oh-so-lovely Capitol.

Suddenly, something solid and rough wacks me in the side of my head, making me gasp and look down in annoyance. There stands Finnick, throwing acorns and grinning mischievously. "Food's ready!" he calls.

I mutter curses under my breath as Katniss giggles -did I really just hear her do that?- and takes my hand. She helps me down to the ground safely, and we head over to where Finnick has layed out freshly-cooked meat and water bottles.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Finnick's POV:**

The starcrossed lovers bounce down to the ground and head over to where I stand, waiting. I'm still smiling at Peeta's scowl, but really, each time I see them my jealousy increases. I suppose being stuck in a Hunger Games arena together with merciless Gamemakers and bystanders trying to kill you wouldn't be the best situation to be in, but at least they can spend their last days - or minutes, you never know - together. I highly doubt I'll ever get to see Annie again, and we've only just begun our lives together.

However, the serenity I feel in the thought that if I succeed nobody will have to endure what we have keeps me calm enough to go on. The only thing left for me to do is protect the Mockingjay and make sure she survives, no matter what the cost.

"Did you hear that?" Katniss asks. Peeta and I immediately freeze, dropping our food. I hadn't heard anything, but her years of hunting have clearly given her the advantage here.

"No, what is-"

"Shh."

Katniss cuts off Peeta's words and pushes the two of us behind her, an arrow already prepared to shoot. She stands silently and moves her bow from side to side, trying to see where the voices -or whatever it is she's heard- are coming from. Her face transforms into one of complete and utter concentration - a look I've seen on her in the most crucial moments of her Games last year. She looks fierce and confident, and at last, I can see a sliver of the girl I watched last year, before she fell in love and had her life flipped completely upside down.

I strain my ears, deperately trying to hear whatever it is that Katniss thinks is coming.

At last, I hear it. Voices, barely audible in the suddenly strong winds that have picked up. But we can still hear what they're saying, and it doesn't sound too good.

"The Girl On Fire," somebody says, distaste clear in their voice.

"Yeah, we'll definitely go for her first. Leave the others to watch," another sneers.

Peeta twitches next to me, and I look over at him to see his face contorted in pure anger. Not a trace of fear can be seen in his expression, just a fierce protectiveness for the girl he loves. Katniss looks over her shoulder at him quickly, shooting him a look that clearly says, '_Don't do anything yet.'_

We wait. The people come closer, and then stop to decide which way to go; they obviously have no idea how close they are to where we're situated, waiting patiently for our chance to jump them. I can tell that Katniss and Peeta don't want to do the big killing here, so I know I'll be left for that. After killing so many people in my Games and even at the bloodbath, my guilt doesn't choke me. I've grown to be numb at the chance of murder, having done it so many times that I've my guilty conscious has nothing else to eat away at.

From what I can hear, there are three of them. This means we aren't outnumbered, and it should be relatively easy with my trident and Katniss' uncanny ability to pierce anything she shoots at. I can't recognize the voices, so I figure that they must be the remaining Careers I never got to know.

Peeta jabs me in the side, and I spin around. "What do we do?" he mouths.

I put a finger over my lips, signalling for him to stay quiet. I get to my feet, trident at the ready, and jump around a tree at the last second, landing about ten feet away from my competitors. They look startled at first, but the leader doesn't have a moment to prepare himself before one of my knives pierces his neck. Blood spurts immediately, and he falls to his knees. A knife flies straight at me, but I deflect it with my trident. I don't know who it was that threw it, but a moment later two arrows fly past me, one straight after the other, and hit each of them in the heart. They fly backwards, one into a nearby tree and the other into a sharp branch sticking out. The branche passes through him and protrudes six inches from his shoulder. Three canons go off, signalling the deaths of three tributes in less than ten seconds.

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

**Katniss' POV:**

I watch as if in slow motion as my arrows pierce their hearts, sending them flying backwards. One lands on a protruding branch, and it sticks out from his body in a sickening way. I want to gag or puke or _something, _but the shock of the moment still hasn't worn off. Numbly, I approach the bodies of the tributes I killed and pull my arrows free of their hearts. I can hardly stand to look at them long enough to pull them out, but I never know when I'll need my arrows.

Finnick does the same, pulling his knife free of his victim. We walk back towards Peeta silently, neither of us saying a word.

Peeta breaks the silence. "That was awful."

"It'd be worse for you if you'd done some of the killing," Finnick tells him, staring off into space; his expression gives away no remorse or sickness. He just looks as if he wants to sleep for a long, long time and never wake up.

Peeta opens his mouth and shuts it again. He stands without saying a word and walks towards a tree to lean on the trunk.

I approach him, and to my own disbelief, he shies away from my touch. I can't keep the hurt from my voice as I whisper, "What is it, Peeta?"

I still can't see his face, but I watch him as he rubs a hand through his disheveled hair, taking a deep, shaky breath. "I'd rather not talk about it with the entire nation watching."

Despite my understanding of how he feels, I frown. It's so unlike Peeta to say something like that, to not play the audience and our sponsers perfectly, that I'm taken back.

"He feels useless and unable to protect you on his own."

Finnick's voice is filled with exasperation -towards the Capitol, I'm guessing- and sympathy as he adresses the two of us. Peeta turns from his position for a moment to send a meaningful glare towards him, but Finnick doesn't seem to care. "Well I'm right, aren't I?" he asks.

Peeta swallows and nods, but still won't look at me.

I completely understand why he's been quiet lately. With my bow and arrows and Finnick's glistening trident, there's no doubt in my mind that Peeta must be feeling a little bit out of place. He carries around knives of his own, yes, but he doesn't have the same kind of practice with them, and he knows it. I'm a hundred percent confident in his ability to fight and stay alive, but Peeta must think we're totally out of his league of survival.

"Peeta," I say softly. "Just because you didn't help out this time doesn't mean you couldn't have."

He doesn't say anything.

I step forward and wrap my arms around his waist from behind. I ignore the fact that I can count his ribs with my fingers and that he's much too thin to be healthy. He visibly relaxes at my embrace. "It happened quickly, and you were ready to help us if we needed you to. I trust you, Peeta. You're just as strong as we are."

He shakes his head, but turns around to look at me. His blue eyes -the eyes I love so much- stare down at me in adoration. "You're wrong. I'm not as good as you two. And what if something happens to-" He pauses for a moment, then looks down awkwardly. "What if something happens to Finnick?"

We both look back at him, but he seems to have not heard us; he's lying on his back, looking up into the sky. "Then we'll protect eachother, just like before," I tell him.

Peeta closes his eyes, cutting off my view of his lapis lazuli irises. His blond eyelashes seem longer than ever in this lighting. "What if I screw up again?" he whispers. "You had to save me so many times last year... I was always the weakling. I don't want to hold you back."

My mouth literally falls open, and I openly gape at him. "Peeta, look at me," I tell him. "Look at me."

He opens his eyes and I lean into him so much that are chests are pressed together. My skin tingles, and I feel my breath leave me for a moment.

"Yeah?" he says, so softly that I barely catch the word. But I do, and I shiver as his breathe brushes over me in a gust of warm air.

I lift my face so that our lips are brushing, and whisper, "You've saved me too, Peeta. Without you I'd be dead, and I would've died without knowing how it feels to-"

I can't finish my sentence. How can I tell him all the ways he's saved me? He's saved me from far more than death itself: he's saved me from insanity, from loneliness, from never knowing love... If I'd never gone into the Games with him, I would have never known the reason I'm here today, the reason I was _ever _alive.

Peeta's my reason. My reason for everything, and my reason for living.

"Should I fill in the blanks?" he murmurs. I smile, and his lips brush mine softly. It's unbearably sweet, but still nowhere near enough for me. I take him by the collar of his t-shirt and kiss him again, more fiercely than I ever have. When we pull away from eachother, it's because we've both lost our ability to bring air into our lungs. Wrapped in Peeta's arms, exactly where I should be, I don't plan on leaving for as long as possible.

But unfortunately, the Gamemakers choose that moment to strike.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Buh, buh, buuhhhh... ;) **


	6. Chapter 6

**The inspiration for this chapter comes from TheSoggyBug. I couldn't have gotten started without her :) And yes, I am fully aware that this story is transforming into a completely different story than what the summary sounds like. I'm sort of winging it (like the majority of my other stories). Anyway, on with the writing...**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Peeta's POV:**

Finnick yells something unintelligable, and I look back at him to see his arms pointing frantically towards the sky. I tighten my grip on Katniss as if the threat will jump out momentarily to snag her from me. The thought doesn't enter my brain for a full second before I have her pinned behind me against the tree, my back pressed protectively against her small frame. I look up into the sky and understand immediately the source of Finnick's distress.

The sky is slowly but surely turning a sickening shade of red. Not the kind of red I'd use to make soft flower petals on my canvas, but the kind I'd use to paint blood - the blood that has just recently flowed and has a sharp, startlingly bright shade to it. The colour of the sky darkens so quickly that after only a few short moments it is so dark that large parts -mainly consisting of the clouds- have turned into flat out burgundy.

In a moment of pure terror, I spin around to face Katniss and pull her against my chest, not knowing what to do. There's no way to guess just what is about to happen (how should I know what a red sky is supposed to mean?), and my panic has shaken me so badly that my instinct to protect Katniss is all I can register inside of my head.

"Peeta!" she yells, momentarily stopping my breakdown. We're pressed against eachother, but the wind has picked up so much that it's practically impossible to hear her. Her eyes have fear evident in them, but as usual, she tries to hide it with her strength and confidence. Also as usual, it's working out perfectly for her. She's obviously far more put together in life-threatening situations than I am. It's no wonder I'm worried that I won't be able to protect her. I haven't even seen what we're going to be up against yet, and I'm already prepared to break down right here and now.

Katniss' mouth forms more words, but her words are tuned out by a sudden strike of lightning that slices down from the sky. A huge tree tumbles forward towards us, but Finnick composes himself quickly enough to push us out of the way right before it falls. We roll somewhat smoothly, not scratching ourselves or falling into any trees or logs. When I look to see the damage it has made, I feel my heart plummet to the pit of my stomach and my breath catch in my throat.

Never, in my entirely terrifying past, have I ever felt fear as strongly as I do when I see what has just fallen from the sky with the lightning bolt.

A slithering creature writhes on the ground ten feet away from us, its skin covered completely in the discusting redness of the sky. I now realize what exactly it is, and my discust and panic increases immensely. Blood. The redness of the sky, the clouds, and now these discusting creatures, is all blood. I wouldn't be surprised if it was human blood, actually. The Capitol seems to have gone through great lengths to scar us further in the past, so why not this? Why not make us wonder who was sacrificed for our lives to be made worse?

The creature has the body of a human, but its limbs are all protruded at unnatural angles. When it turns its face towards us, I see that it has no nose, just a hole in its face that signifies it's been cut off. Its eyes are shining bright red -without any pupils- and there's so much blood and guck on its face that it's too hard to tell at my quick glance if it has a mouth or not. Hopefully not. I'd rather not be eaten alive by it if the inevitable happens.

The... _thing... _is so utterly terrifying that my body has rendered me unable to scream, shout, do anything. The feeling vibrates up my chest, only to get caught in my throat and make me bend over, gasping and clutching my face. _This can't be happening._

Katniss must have seen it too, because a second later an ear-splitting scream rings out through the air. Even over the harsh winds, her shriek can be heard by what feels like the entire world. It's filled with so much horror that I'm instantly snapped out of my paralysis.

I run to her as if ours lives depend on it (they just might, actually), and realize that I'd strayed much too far away from her. We need to stay close together, so that I can protect her as much as I possibly can. I'd been too caught up in my terror to notice that the familiar warmth in my chest of having her close had, in fact, vanished for a couples ofminutes. I swear to myself that it won't happen again until I've died and she's gone back home, safe.

"Come here!" I yell. Katniss doesn't hesitate. She closes the distance between us and we clutch eachother desperately.

"Be careful, Peeta!" she yells back. Her eyes now have that same determined glint I've seen so many times before. She's let herself have her moment of terror, but now she's back to business. She looks at me sternly, and I wonder what exactly she's trying to tell me. She must sense my confusion, because she gestures wildly to her bow and arrows and back to the writhing creature. It's starting crawling towards us, more blood foaming from its mouth and its legs and arms jutting out at discusting angles.

"_NO_!" I scream. I know what she's planning, and it terrifies me. "_I can't let you go_!"

She shakes her head frantically, and starts to move past me. The creature suddenly shrieks, a sound so chilling that all of the hair on my body sticks straight up. "_I have to, Peeta_!"

The pure emotion in the two of us really departing, really going in seperate directions during this, terrifies us both. If something happens to her...

A sob escapes my lips. "Please," I say. I know she can't hear me over the wind, but she sees the words on my lips.

She throws herself onto me and we clutch eachother tightly. I press my face into her neck, wanting more than anything to freeze time and stay here with her in my arms forever, never facing the horrible creatures that await us. But we both know that can't happen; the thing is coming closer and closer, and Finnick has ran off to fight who-knows-what.

"I love you," she mouths. I don't have time to react before she's kissing me. The kiss tastes like desperation, hopelessness, and love; something we'd never imagined being this strong, and someting we'd never imagined coming to an end like this, without any happily ever after.

She pulls away abruptly, and my skin freezes over as the warmth of her body leaves my side. Katniss prepares her bow, and we lock eyes one last time before she runs off towards the writhing creature, almost immediately leaving my sight as she runs farther into the forest.

Not ten seconds after she's gone, a cannon fires.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**IMPORTANT:**

**I need to know what to do with this story. Should I continue on with it and have Katniss get captured instead of Peeta? Or should I just have them reunite or something and end with a quick, "Things may seem tough now, but together, we can face anything."? (Yes that was a horrible example, but help me out here). **


	7. Chapter 7

**Happy Birthday, Lana! And a big thank-you to everyone who keeps up with this story :) I love that you guys love it.**

**XXXXXXXXX**

**Peeta's POV:**

The sound of the cannon blasts around me, and for a moment I close my eyes and pretend that this is just another of my nightmares. My nightmares of my first Games have dissapeared a little bit, but right now I wish they hadn't. I wish that this is all that's happening, that I'm only having a bad dream and will wake up in a cold sweat momentarily.

But I know it isn't one of them, because I can physically feel my chest constricting and almost suffocating me again. The pain bites at my heart over and over again until finally, it crumples under the weight and sinks to the pit of my stomach, there to stay until I see her again - _if _I see her again.

My eyes are stinging and I can feel my body trembling, but the only thing I can register is that Katniss is gone, and a cannon has gone off. I'm not sure how many tributes are left, but it seems too ironic that one should go off right as Katniss and I seperate.

_It has to be somebody else. It has to be somebody else._ I feel bad wishing for somebody else's death, but I can't help it. If anything happened to Katniss, I'd never be able to live again - let alone breathe. She's all that keeps me from falling to pieces, and having her gone would be like ripping me in half. That's what it feels like now, actually.

"Peeta! _Peeta!" _Somebody is calling for me, but it isn't the voice I need to hear and so I can't move from my spot. Footsteps run towards me, and even still, I can't do anything but stand here dumbstruck and horrified.

A sudden sharp pain to the side of my face breaks me out of my trance. "Snap out of it! We need to get out of here!" Finnick yells. He raises his hand to slap me again, but I jump away from him and scream Katniss' name at the top of my lungs. Even to my own ears the sound is awful, filled with torment and heartbreak. But I can't take it anymore. I sink to my knees and start sobbing into my hands. I've just fallen to the ground as the first of the wet drops soak into the back of my t-shirt.

At first I don't acknoledge the wetness, too wrapped up in my own pain to pay too much attention to it. But after a few minutes, the rain starts falling so hard that it's practically impossible for me to not notice it. My eyes and mouth are squeezed shut as I break down, but eventually I have to take a breath and I open my mouth.

The wetness immediately pours onto my tongue, and the sharp, copper taste of it makes my eyes fly open. Blood. There's no doubt about it.

Finnick knows it, too, because he forces me to my feet. Through the tears and blood soaking in my eyes, I am able to see red streaks falling down from the sky, bright and alarming against the dark clouds. Its scent overwhelms me, and I am in serious danger of passing out. From the smell. From the taste. From my fear. From my worry.

The world itself seems as if it's choking me. It feels too small all of a sudden, as if it's shrunken and closed into a small box around me, with all of it's smells and polutions and horrors. It's all closing in on me quickly, and my breathing becomes hitched. My head blurs and I fall again, this time into Finnick. He tries to get me to stand up again and run, but it's no use; there's no chance I'll be able to keep up with him.

I tell him to go on without me, but my voice falls on deaf ears against the wind. He continues to hoist my body over his shoulders, but my weight is too heavy for him and we both know it. He's forced to put me back down onto the ground. Squeezing my eyes shut, I open my mouth and scream, "_GO!" _as loud as I possibly can. My throat burns as the word leaves me, but the message has finally gotten across.

"I can't just leave you here!" he yells back. There's something about his eyes that have changed, but I can't quite place it. It must just be the panic of everything that's going on. After all, the Gamemakers have sent horrible creatures into the arena with us, a cannon has just sounded, the sky is raining blood, and lightning is shooting down every few seconds. We could get hit at any second - our lives could end any second.

But what should I care by now? Katniss hasn't found us, and if I know her well enough I know that she would have run back as soon as she'd taken care of the creature. She wouldn't leave me here to fight alone, without anything to protect me against all of the Capitol's ploys. Surely she would have returned to me; no blood rain or lightning would be able to keep her from coming. Unless she had gotten hurt, or...

I squeeze my eyes shut again, but I'm unable to get the horrible image of Katniss' body, burnt and bloodied, out of my head. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth once again, and in the terrorized state of my mind, I picture it being Katniss'.

_No. It can't be, because she isn't dead. _

But how can I know this for sure? How can I be certain that with so much going on in the arena right now, she's managed to fight free? And I have no doubt in my mind that the Capitol would use her blood in a moment's notice. Their technologies and endless money has allowed them to do practically whatever they'd like in the past, so why not now? They must know that these are the thoughts going through my head, because the rain begins to pour harder. It slams down into my body, and nothing -not even Finnick- can shield me from it.

"Peeta!" He screams my name again, this time desperately, beckening for me to stand up and run. But I have no fight left in me. Katniss is gone from my side, and I may seem like a coward, but really, she is the only thing that keeps me rooted here, unable to move. The knowledge that there's a big chance of her not being alive anymore sends me into a paralysing frenzy, and now that is just going to get Finnick killed, too.

"Go on!" I yell. My voice sounds inhumane and strained. "I can't take it anymore!"

Finnick is suddenly furious, and I can understand why. "_What don't you understand?" _he screeches, his eyes flashing. "I can't leave you here to die! She needs you!"

My heart constricts at the referance to Katniss. For a moment I can't answer him as the pain overtakes me again. I can only watch as the blood rain soaks him even more, turning his clothing, skin and hair a discusting red-brown colour. But my throat eventually clears and I'm able to say, "She isn't here anymore."

At first I don't think that he's heard me -I spoke quietly, after all- but when he looks back down at me, his eyes are filled with compassion. "You don't know that. We can't lose hope, not now. She's the biggest fighter out there," he yells to me. I can hardly make out the words, but I manage.

Then, with Finnick's words still echoing in the back of my mind, I realize that he's right. Katniss is the biggest fighter out there, and there's no way in hell that she'd let herself get killed that easily - especially when she has me to fight for, when she has me to worry about.

I won't lose hope for her. Not ever.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Poor, poor Peeta... or, in our world, Hunter Parrish. Yes? ;D**

**Just so everyone knows, the official release date for the Hunger Games movie is March 23rd, 2012! Yes! Exactly two days before my birthday (or three, because I'm obviously going to go to the premiere. Duh.) BEST. BIRTHDAY. PRESENT. EVER.**

**Don't forget to review :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**"Nothing is so fatiguing as the eternal hanging on of an uncompleted task." **

**~William James**

**A/N. Sorry for the wait! I had some trouble with the inspiration to write this, but once I got going, it wouldn't stop :)**

At first, there's only darkness. I'm trapped in a cold, dark world of suffocation and fear. There's no shining light at the end of the blackness, no glowing silouhette that tells me I'll be okay. There's nothing. I am nothing.

I know that I must be dead. Surely if I were still alive I'd feel _some _kind of pain. Not even necessarily pain, just something aside from this emptiness. I can't think, and I can't feel my body enough to know if I'm moving, lying down, sitting, _anything. _I don't know anything.

It could be hours that I am stuck there, or it could be seconds, but eventually I'm thrown back into reality. The darkness behind my eyelids slowly turns to redness, and I'm able to feel the ache and thick wetness covering every inch of my body. My eyes feel heavy -heavier than my legs even- but I force them open. I'm rewarded with a huge flow of liquid shooting straight into them and immediately blocking my sight again. Great. Spluttering, I cough and rub at my face until I'm able to see again.

The blood rain is still falling strong, although a little bit less than I remember before killing that grotesque creature and being thrown backwards into the tree (by what, I have no idea). I can't feel the injury yet, but I must have a concussion after that. No one knocks their head that hard without some kind of damage done.

I stand up shakily and raise my bow and arrows, trying unsuccessfully to steady my hands enough to shoot. The lightning much have come down a lot since I blacked out, because there are more writhing creatures coming towards me. Their discusting bodies and empty eye sockets come closer, but I'm still too shaken to do anything. I can't shoot straight, and I know I can't run without falling on my face.

My panic rises quickly as the first of the creatures reaches out to me. Its slimy, fingerless hands run down my bare leg. I open my mouth to scream, but it gets caught in my throat and leaves me coughing for air.

"S-stop," I stammer desperately. But what would make me think that this _thing _can actually understand my pleas? And even if they did, they wouldn't in a million years give me any mercy. These are creatures of the Capitol. These are bloodthirsty monsters, just like their creators.

And I'm about to die under their hands.

I tremble heavily as another comes close. Desperately, I reach into my belt and pull out the knife that's stored there for emergencies, when I can't use my bow and arrows. With a scream, I stab the creature in the shoulder. Yellow liquids splurt out from its wound, spraying my shirt and adding to the guck that has accumulated there. Its hands leave my legs, and it falls backwards with a terrifying, high-pitched shriek; the kind of sound that will definitely be in my nightmares for the rest of my life, as short as it may be.

I stab as many of them as I can, but I know my time is running out. Lightning bold after lightning bolt smacks the ground close to where I stand, frantically bringing down my dagger into the bodies of the mutations, unsuccessfully trying to free myself from their hold. My efforts are rendered useless, because in almost no time at all there are a dozen of them touching me. They crawl up, their slime covering my entire body apart from my head. Hands reach up towards my face, closer, closer, closer ~

A shriek escapes my lips. The loudest scream I have heard in my entire life, coming from my own mouth. But I can't help it. I have never felt so much fear in my life. All of those other times I was sure I would die, all of those other situations I've been thrown into, are nothing compared to this. I suddenly wish for the quick stab to the heart I could have gotten ages ago. Because now, I'm going to die one of the worst deaths in all of Hunger Games history: I'm going to be eaten by these slithering, bloody mutations.

The first of the teeth come down on my skin, sharp as daggers but twice as terrifying. I scream again, as more and more mutations sink their teeth into my body.

The agony drags on, but I feel my body lifting. Slowly, my pain turns to numbness and my throat becomes too raw to let any more screams pierce the air. My eyes close and I feel myself lifting into the air, higher and higher up until the clouds have swallowed me up completely.

I think of Prim, of Gale, of my friends and family back home. I feel sad for making them hurt, and for making them watch as I slowly died, screaming my throat out until I'm sure I started to spray blood out of my mouth. But who would have noticed, anyway? There was too much blood. It was everywhere.

Where I am now, there isn't any blood at all. It's white, whiter even than freshly fallen snow back in District 12. It's peaceful here, and I lift my hands to see the skin pefectly polished and clear. There are no wounds, not teeth marks.

For a while I'm happy. I let myself forget about everything and anything. But only a fool would think this could go on forever. So it doesn't.

The air whooshes out of my lungs as I'm thrown forward. I fall down, down, down, until my face is pressed against a clear glass, and I'm forced to look down at an island. The entire island is filled with red and bodies that I can't destinguish as human. I wonder what exactly -or who- they are. What human beings look like that?

The screen moves forward until it's placed infront of a boy. A boy with blond hair and beautiful blue eyes; a boy who is making heartbreaking noises that sound somewhere between screams of pain and sobs...

With a jolt, I remember everything. "Peeta!" I scream desperately. But he doesn't hear me. He continues to scream and cry, grasping his chest as if he thinks his heart will fall right out. He must think I'm dead, I realize. But is he right?

"_NO!" _I start to cry. I scream and cry, making almost the same sounds as he is. I need to save him. I need to make sure he gets out of there before the mutations reach him. But how can I do that when I'm stuck in this white nightmare, unable to break through the glass?

I pound my fists against it frantically, probably breaking some of the bones in my hands. The pain doesn't register. It's too minimal compared to the searing pain in my chest.

I suddenly remember one of our moments together in these Games, and I feel my heart break even more.

_"I just... I need you to survive, Peeta," I said softly._

_"I can't. Not without you," he said, and kissed my neck so tenderly that I felt a shiver go down my spine._

_I pulled back to get a better look at him. My cheeks were probably cherry red, but the dedication I felt was strong and unwavering. "You have to. You and Haymitch vowed to save me the last Games, and now it's your turn to be protected."_

_He shook his head at me, his blue eyes sad. "But I wouldn't be happy ever again. I'd never be the same," he says, pulling me tighter against his chest._

_"At least you could be alive. You can go back to the bakery, go back to your paintings. You don't have to forget me, but I don't want you to never let me go. I did it for you, Peeta," I told him. I didn't know if he could notice that my voice was shaking. My heart pounded in my ears and my chest felt like it was about to collapse under the weight of our conversation. I'd never felt so strongly about something, but then again, I've never felt anything as strong as the love I feel for Peeta. It made sense that my emotions were be that high with him. He's everything to me. _

_I leaned forward and pressed my cheek against his. His skin was warm. "So you could live," I whispered._

_He needed to understand. He needed to live._

Now what can I do? There's no way for me to save Peeta if I can't save myself.

I shove against the glass again. It doesn't budge.

With one last broken, piercing cry, I slump forward into the glass screen. There's nothing I can do now, because as strong as I'd once thought I was, I can't even free myself from this pathetic cage. I'm stuck here without anything to do but listen to the boy I love cry and scream. There's nothing for me to do but watch as his heart breaks right infront of my eyes.

XXXXX

XXXXXXX

XXXXX

When my eyes open again, my glass cage has moved to rest infront of Finnick. It follows him smoothly as he runs through the trees, slashing at mutations and ignoring the blood rain that still continues to fall into his eyes. He runs fast and confidently, as if there's a specific place he's running to ~ as if there's a specific life that he's trying to reach before it crumples and leaves.

He finally stops at infront of a large group of mutations. Without hesitation, he throws dagger after dagger into their bodies, seeming unaffected and unbothered by the shrieks and yellow liquid that leaves their bodies. One by one they fall, away from a center point they've all seemed to attach themselves to.

I wonder what it is they're all trying to gnaw at. But as soon as it's revealed, I wish I hadn't wanted to know in the first place.

Finnick's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, mirroring my own. There, under the twitching corpses of the mutations, is me. I almost wouldn't be able to tell that it's myself if it weren't for the messy black hair falling around my face like a halo. My body has red bite marks all over, and the blood is dripping smoothly down my skin and onto the ground around my body, soaking it even more than the blood rain.

I want to scream at what I'm seeing, but I can't. My throat has closed itself off again, blocked by the pure horror I'm feeling. Not just by the bloody scene materializing infront of my eyes, but also by the confirmation that I am dead. There's no way I can alive after so many wounds, not to mention the bites I must have gotten in my already-fatal stomach wound.

I must be dead, so why hasn't any hovercraft come to pick me up yet? Finnick must be thinking the same thing ~ judging by his expression ~ because he rushes over to me and shoves the mutations away. With a crazed look in his eyes, he brings his finger to my neck and wrist, checking for a pulse.

His eyes widen, but he smiles a little bit. "Yes!" He sounds triumphant, and my hope increases. I don't think he would be that relieved if I'd been dead, unless he's changed his mind and just wants out of this arena on his own. For some reason, I don't believe that's why he's relieved. He's become someone I trust with my life ~ Peeta's, even.

Finnick lifts me up gently and starts walking back through the forest. I watch patiently, my anxiety increasing.

Suddenly, the glass moves so that it's infront of Peeta again. I feel my heart constrict again, because he's still there. His face is in his hands, and he's shaking with sobs as he gasps out, over and over again, "Katniss."

My name used to sound perfect coming from his lips, but now it sounds heartbreaking. I desperately want to reach out to him, to take him in my arms and rub his back until his cries have died down. But I can't do that, because I'm stuck watching. I'm stuck in a nightmare that is more realistic than them all.

Finnick walks out from behind some trees, but Peeta doesn't notice. He continues to cry, and the sound squeezes at my heart.

I watch numbly as Finnick washes up my cuts. Three parachutes come down in the process; one has a shelter that I'm immediately put under, another is a medication that is put onto the bites, and the last is food that I'm guessing Finnick will try to shove down my throat somehow. The blood rain slaps against the shelter we're under, but I don't think Peeta even notices that he's no longer being pelted. He continues to shake.

"Help him, too," I yell. But no one hears me. I'm not surprised.

Time passes slowly. Eventually, the blood rain dies down to a light fall, almost looking gentle in comparison to what it'd been an hour ago. I try not to think about where President Snow got a hold of so much blood.

My emotions must have run out of energy, because I feel almost nothing as I watch myself slowly get put back together. I don't know how he's doing it, but Finnick seems to be reviving me. I feel myself slipping away from this cage, and closer to the real world.

I feel a burning sensation in my hands, and look down to see my scars and wounds start to come back. My skin burns for a second before the blood dries up and the wounds close. I'm mesmerized.

The burning continues all the way up until it reaches my face. I smile into it, embracing the tingling pain that means reviving. My eyelids burn, and I find myself falling once again, down, down, down. My body falls through the sky, cutting through clouds and passing by birds ~ mockingjays, actually.

I fall until with one final cry, I slam back into my body. Finnick jumps back as my eyes fly open and I gasp. My hands reach up to my throat, making sure that I can breathe again. I can.

"Holy~" he sputters. "Are you alright? You just - and you - and now -"

I almost laugh, but the seriousness of the moment keeps my face from breaking out into a smile. "I'm alright. I feel ... good," I say.

He looks confused, but I don't explain further. Instead, my eyes flitter back in the direction of Peeta. He must have heard my voice, because he's sitting up now, his mouth hanging open adorably and his eyes scrunched up in emotional pain. "Katniss," he chokes.

I crawl over to him, ignoring the searing pain in some of my wounds. Most of them have closed up by now, with the help of Haymitch.

"Peeta." I reach my hand out to him, and he throws himself onto me. He sobs into my hair and clutches me to him, as if he's afraid I'll be torn from him again. I might, but I'm not going to tell him that, not when he's crying so much. I'd thought for so long that I would never hurt him, but I've just broken his heart. It wasn't purposeful, but I still did.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, stroking his hair.

"N-never leave again," he says, so quietly that I can scarcely hear him.

"I won't, Peeta. I'm not going anywhere."

He nods and pulls his face from my hair to take my face in his hands. He wipes away tears I hadn't even known had fallen and looks up at me through wet lashes. "Promise?" he whipers.

I barely have time to nod before his lips are on mine, kissing me with a gentle passion so sweet I'm sure my cheeks are blazing embarrassingly at the cameras. He pulls away reluctantly, but I grab him by the t-shirt and kiss him again and again, trying to heal his heart after everything I've put him through.

I trail kisses along his jaw, then back up to his mouth. Our tears mix in with our kisses, but neither of us mind, lost in our little moment of bliss.

"Do you mind? I just might puke," Finnick interrupts.

Groaning inwardly (and Peeta not so discreetly) I turn around, still sitting on Peeta's lap. He wraps his arms around my waist and keeps me close. "We have to take the time we have," Peeta says. His voice is hoarse from all of the crying and yelling, but he sounds a thousand times happier than he did a moment ago.

"Especially since it won't be long before another attack. The few minutes we're getting now is lucky, because I'm sure they were expecting way more deaths than they got," Finnick says, rolling his eyes in discust and looking up at the shelter that covers us. I realize with dread that he's right. The Capitol will _not _be happy that we managed to stay alive through their vicious attacks.

Peeta's arms tighten around me even more. "How many are left, Finnick?" he asks.

"To be honest, I don't know how many are left. Probably about five or six, counting us three."

I sigh. "It won't be much longer, then."

The boys don't answer. Peeta kisses my neck softly, and I lean back into him, basking in the warmth that I won't be able to appreciate for much longer. No one adds to my comment, but we're all thinking it. At least two out of three of us will be dead soon. A couple of days, tops.

All of a sudden, a large blast shoots down from the sky.

"What was that?" exclames Finnick. We stand up frantically, and look up into the sky. It's turned burgundy again, just like it had before the lightning had started coming down.

"No," I groan. "This can't be happening again."

"Looks like it is," says Finnick, making dread build up in the pit of my stomach.

In a panic, Peeta pulls me against his chest, trying to shield me from what is to come. I spin around quickly and kiss him on the lips. "I love you," I tell him.

His blue eyes stare at me sadly. Suddenly I want to die like this. I want to die looking into his eyes, where I know I'll always be safe, no matter what is happening around me. I can always lose myself in them, in Peeta. "I love you too," he says.

He starts to say something else but is cut off by another burst of light. It hits the ground right next to our shelter, sending us flying to the ground.

"Get up! Get up!" I scream. My words are drowned out by more lightning hitting the ground near us. I run to Peeta and grab him by the hand, pulling him up and making him run with Finnick and I. Our escape is pointless, because the inevitable is about to happen. We're about to be hit. We're about to die.

"I can't! Katniss!" Peeta yells. I look over to see him struggling on his feet, tripping over his prosthetic leg. He falls to the ground just as I try to help him. But I'm too late.

The sky opens up, and lighting crashes all around us. Finnick and I fall too, knocked to the ground by the sheer force of the bolts. There's nothing we can do now. There's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide ourselves.

I wonder if this is how all of those other tributes felt as they were killed, some by my own hands. I wonder if their fear was as great as mine, but in a way I doubt it way, because it's not only myself I feel it for. I'm feeling the fear for two people: myself and Peeta. It's so strong that in this moment I wish for death to take me, just so that I can be freed into a place of serenity and calmness, a place where there is no Capitol and no pain; a place where I'd be safe with Peeta, forever.

That's a dream, though; one I can't ever have. I live in a world ruled by the Capitol, and I'm sure that even in heaven ~or whatever place I go after I die~ they'd follow, just like my nightmares. There is no escape for me.

All hope leaves me, and I crumple up next to Peeta. I mutely try to cover Peeta with my own body, but I know it won't do much to save him. Maybe if I'm lucky, it will make him live longer than I do. Maybe it will give him a chance to leave this arena ~ something I know I won't be doing. This is where me and Peeta's love was first born, and where it will die. This is the end for us. We always knew it would come, but that doesn't make this any more painful.

"Peeta, I love you," I croak into his ear, hoping he'll be able to hear my voice over the blasts of lightning. But I'll never know if he does, because a second later disaster strikes.

It seems like everything that happens next happens in slow motion.

I see Finnick move infront of Peeta and I. I see him lift his trident. I see the lighting hit it, sending Finnick flying backwards. I see him lying motionless. And then, once I think nothing could get worse, I see the bolt rebound of his trident and blast into the sky ~ into the force field.

An explosion bursts around us, and an invisible force slams into me so hard that I wonder if my brain has exploded, too. The air leaves my lungs, and I'm thrown into another world of darkness, one where my nightmares from the past would have been a blessing.

The only difference is now, this is reality.

**A/N. At first I was going to end it with this chapter, but I realize now that that can't happen. I might've gotten chased down by some of my followers. I'm serious. XD **

**Don't forget to review! :)**


	9. Chapter 9

Pounding. Tearing. Clicking. Counting.

The eternal beating of a clock grips the inside of my head, refusing to give me any sort of relief from its ticking. Every second it clicks menacingly, and every second my body becomes more and more aware of the pain it's enduring, as if the clock is counting off my remaining minutes of numbness.

The pain appears first in my fingers, like a searing, blisteringly hot weight has been set on them. The heat increases alarmingly fast, and spreads quickly up towards my elbows, then my shoulders, then to the base of my throat. A strangled scream builds itself up in my base of my chest and begins making its way towards my mouth, but I can't feel my head enough to know if it ever made it, if the scream ever penetrated the air around me. It's not like I'd be able to hear it if it had.

The fire spreads all over the place until it reaches my toes. I want to scream, to thrash, to do _anything._ But I can't; an invisible black wall is closing in on me with more and more ferocity, almost cutting off the small amount of labored breath I have left.

Suddenly, through the red haze, a voice appears. It's deep and rough - definitely male. For some reason my brain screams at me that I should recognize it, but the pain is too much and my thoughts aren't coherent enough. I can only hear what they're saying. I can't even comprehend what it going through my own head.

"She's gaining consciousness. It should only be a little bit longer now."

Another male voice joins in, slightly higher in tone. "Yes, but then what? What do you plan to do with her? The rebels could attack at any time, and we have nothing holding them out just yet."

"Yes, nothing but an entire city full of armed Peacekeepers," laughs the other. "And by then they may be too late. If her heart doesn't stop on its own from the machines, she may die of emotional trauma."

"Emotional trauma?"

"Yes. Just imagine what she'll be like when she sees the boy, when she sees what we'll do to him."

Sadistic laughter rings out around the room, or wherever it is I am. I don't exactly want to know.

I desperately try to sort out of my thoughts, but whenever I become even close to figuring it out, to rethinking what has just been said, the searing hot pain explodes in my skull, like it's trying to force any thoughts away from me. The pressure of it makes my skull feel as if it's about to explode in a horrifying mess of flames and gore.

So I lie there. I lie there on the hard, stiff surface, waiting for the pain to end - waiting for my body to finish burning, to just succumb to the quickly increasing red haze. And I almost do, so many times - too many to count.

I wonder if I'm dying. If so, I wish it would happen sooner. Because this agony is too much for me to handle, much worse than I could have ever imagined. And I know that if I do manage to survive, this would only be the beginning. It would get worse. Worse and worse until finally, my heart can't take it anymore and stops beating entirely. But I don't want it to get to that; I just want this to end here, and now.

But when have I ever gotten what I wanted - what I needed?

I never have. So I don't expect this to turn out any differently.

* * *

It could be hours later that I come back, or it could be days. It doesn't matter. But eventually, my brain catches up to my body -that is now becoming numb again- and I'm able to think, at last.

At first I try to figure out where I am, but when my eyes refuse to open and I don't want my torturers to see that I'm awake, I'm left hopeless once again. Not only that, but the conversation I'd overheard starts to repeat itself over and over in my head, and in a sharp moment of remembrance, everything that has happened recently flows into my head like a tidal wave.

The mutts. The blood rain. The lightning. The forcefield. Finnick lying motionless in the sand. President Snow's voice. And then... Peeta.

Peeta.

_Just imagine what she'll be like when she sees the boy, when she sees what we'll do to him._ To him. To the boy. Peeta.

Hysterical now, I try to move my body off of the table, or to scream. Any small improvement would be of comfort to me right now, but when I still can't do anything, I stop breathing. My Peeta, the most important person in my life, is probably being tortured by the same men at this very moment. He could be enduring the same pain I have, _or worse. _

The fire I'd felt moments ago was nothing compared to what I'm feeling now, and I realize with cold certainty that Snow's assumptions were right: knowing that they're hurting Peeta hurts me more than it would if it were my own physical pain. And now that Snow has us wrapped around his discusting, bloodied fingers, he can do all of the horrible things he's dreamt of and more.

The thought that I'd have to watch Peeta be tortured began eating me from the inside out. My heart felt as if it were being ripped apart slowly; I could practically hear it breaking.

This is something I won't be able to handle. Peeta, who deserves this the least out of everyone. Peeta, who loved me despite everything and who always finds the best in people. Peeta, who despite being in the Hunger Games twice, would never hurt a living creature if it were his very last hope.

Peeta, who could be lying somewhere near me now, sweating and screaming and begging for mercy...

"No!"

A high, wailing screech slices the air, and it takes me a moment of stunned silence to realize that it had been my own scream.

I open my eyes wildly, scanning the room as quickly as humanly possible. White walls surround me, and the door that had supposedly been opened before isn't even visible against all of the whiteness. No windows. No tiles. No paint marks. Just a terrifying, perfect white that has a shining, Capitol glow to it.

And it's not only the colour - or lack of, more like. It's the _size._ The room itself is so small. So, so small. Probably about three meters by three meters in perimeter, with only this rock-hard table for me to lie on in the middle.

For one of the first times in my life, I tell myself that I'm afraid. But this is an entirely new kind of afraid. I'm not only afraid for my life, or the life of the people I love. I'm afraid of what they're going to do to me when I'm _alive._ Because they've already given me a small taste, and it was the most painful experience I've ever endured. This can only get worse.

Not only for me, but for Peeta too.

The door is thrown open suddenly, and half a dozen masked men walk in almost as if in slow motion, their steps and arms perfectly simultaneous, like cold-hearted soldiers. None of their skin is visible except for a very small amount around their eyes, where there are holes for them to see through. Everywhere else is covered in a thick, red material - like velvet. Or more accurately, like blood.

I lay perfectly still, my face expressionless. There's no way I'm giving them the satisfation of seeing my fear, although it's building up like an erupting volcano - right from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. A cold, searing fear that races my heart and takes my breath away.

The men circle the table I'm lying on, their eyes speculative. I swallow and try to inhale.

"Do we wait for Snow?" asks one on the left.

There is a long silence. "Yes," says another slowly. I recognize his voice from the conversation I'd overheard earlier. I wonder briefly if he knows I heard. Probably. "The president will be here shortly."

The one at the foot of my bed runs his fingers over my bare calf (I'm in nothing but a hospital gown), and I tighten my fists against a shiver that is threatening to curse through me. His skin is cold, like a layer of ice. Another leans his face towards my own, and I can smell his breath. My eyes widen involuntaringly and I almost choke; it smells like roses.

I wonder if they've done this to themselves purposefully, to make it more traumatic for me.

The door opens once again, and I try to etch its exact placement in my brain for later - just in case. Before I can take a breath to prepare myself, the man of my nightmares enters, a wide grin stretched across his face, saying, _'Game over, Everdeen. I win.'_

_But you don't, _I want to scream. _You _don't. _I'll never stop fighting! I'll never stop trying to get away from you! _But my teeth are biting down on my tongue so hard that I can't pass any words through my lips. The bitter taste of blood rests on my tongue.

"What a pleasure, Katniss," he begins. His cold, pale blue eyes stare daggers into my face and body, trying to make me feel vulnerable. I clench my jaw. Cinna's voice appears in my head, deep and soothing. _Remember, heads high, _he says.

I lift my face to meet his icy stare. "I wish I could say the same," I say, my voice dripping with mock innocence.

His eyes flash and before I can do anything, two of his men have me pinned back to the bed. Their masked faces loom above me for a terrifying moment until each of their hands come down in slashing arcs, punching the air right out of my lungs. I lay there gasping for a few minutes after they've tightened my restraints and backed away, my eyes swimming in tears of frustration.

"I'd think again before smart-talking me," Snow hisses. "I'm the one in charge here." He leans towards me and breathes in my face, making me gag. "Got it?"

I nod stiffly.

"Good. Boys," Snow says calmy, gesturing to his men, then to me. "It's time."

I'm wheeled out of the white room and into a plain, cemented hallway, my heart beating a million miles an hour. We move down the hallway in silence, passing by dozens of empty jail cells, looking surprisingly comforting compared to my white nightmare room.

As we become closer and closer to our destination, President Snow's smile widens like a criminal who just got away with robbing a bank. "Here we are, Katniss," he says elatedly. "Enjoy."

A door opens to my left, and a room is revealed. White walls. White floors. Exactly like my own, but in the middle of the room, there's a man tied to the wall, manacles clanking against the cement as he trashes from side to side, his golden-red hair whipping from side to side with each torturous scream.

Finnick.

I jerk to the side on my bed, trying to free myself to run to him, to help, to do anything but lie here and watch him screaming. But I can't; my own manacles are tied too tightly, and I can barely budge.

I watch in horror as his body convulses, over and over again. He screams for mercy. He begs. He pleads. But just like me, no one comes to his rescue.

* * *

After hours of lying there, my eyes streaming a constant flood of tears, the electroshocks suddenly stop and Finnick is freed. He falls to the floor in a mess of blood and pale skin, unconscious.

The silence that follows next is sickening. I turn to the side of my bed and throw up all over the cement floor.

I don't wipe the vomit from my face.

* * *

I must have passed out as well, because when I come back to my senses, I'm in another room, this time with blue walls. Blue like the ocean, with waves of silvers and lighter shades swirling around the edges of the ceiling. It's lapis lazuli blue, like the colour of Peeta's eyes.

Thoughts of him feel my mind and I suddenly long for him more than I've ever longed for anything in my entire life. I need him like I needed food when I was a starving eleven year old. Like I needed water that time I was dying of dehydration in the arena.

But I need him so much more than that.

I need him like he's the only thing keeping my heart from stopping right now. Maybe he is.

A moan cuts through my misery, hoarse and weak. "Mm."

My head jerks to the left with lightning speed. Finnick is lying on a bed about a meter and a half away from my own, his skin still deathly pale and a broken twitch of a smile etched onto his lips. The shock of his survival and the terror of the pain I'd watched him go through was driving me to insanity. "Finnick," I choke frantically. I try to reach out to him, longing for the feel of someone else's skin against my own, someone who isn't intent on hurting me. My wrists remain glued to my sides.

His face contorts in frustration and panic. "Katniss," he says quickly. His eyes are snapping from the empty space between our beds to the door of the chamber we're in. "Where have they gone? How long have I been out?

"I-I don't know," I say. "You passed out after... after..."

He exhales scornfully."Not much help to us. They could come back any second."

"We have to do something! We have to get away," I say, my voice rising in panic.

Finnick looks over to me, his expression full of remorse. "I know. But there's nothing we can do. I've tried everything."

I groan and slam my head into the bed angrily. It creaks.

"Katniss..." Finnick says slowly.

"What?"

"Did you hear that?"

I look back over to him, baffled. "Hear what?"

"The creaking from your bed. It sounded like it was ready to snap," he tells me. The hint of a hopeful smile lights up his face.

My eyes widen. Of _course _the Capitol would give us the cheapest beds they could find. And without thinking, too, because from the sound of it, these stupid things are refoldable. "Finnick, copy exactly what I do," I say quickly.

Taking a deep breath, I spring forward as hard as I can, then back down again. The bed creaks loudly, the sound reverberating off the walls like a scream. I mentally pray that the guards who are supposed to be watching us don't have any audio devices to spy on us with. If they do, we'd be screwed. There's no way they wouldn't have heard that.

I do the same thing three more times until with one final snap, my cot folds in on itself. I'm blinded by a moment of pain as my body lurches forward in an unnatural position, but it passes quickly; as soon as I'm thrown forward, my restraints snap under the immense angle.

"Looks like we're getting out of here," Finnick grins. He repeats my execution and a moment later we're both standing by the door in our robes, listening in for whatever guards are on the other side.

"Think we'll be able to get through them?" I whisper.

Finnick contemplates for a moment, then says confidently, "No one can defeat the mighty Finnick Odair."

I roll my eyes. "You're such a child."

He winks at me.

Since there are no weapons in the room, let alone windows, Finnick and I have no other choice but to rush the guards and fight them as best as we can. We're well aware that the guards have guns, but we don't have any other options.

"You know, I'd rather be shot and die quickly than undergo any more torture," I say bluntly.

"Me too," he agrees. Finnick exhales and flexes his biceps cockily. "So let's go kick ass."

* * *

The door is thrown open and two guards are taken down before they're even aware of what's happening. The other three had been half asleep when we'd entered, so are only just coming back into focus when the two of us are on them, punching them senseless until they're just as motionless as they'd been before.

My blood pounding with adrenaline, I spin around in all directions, trying to spot any other guards in the darkness of the corridor.

"Are there any more?" I hear Finnick demand. I turn around to find him pinning a guard against a wall, a gun now in his hand and aimed at the man's temple.

"I-I don't know," the man gasps. Trembles rake his body and he shies away from the gun fearfully.

"Tell me now or you can expect a bullet in your brain. You have five seconds," says Finnick. His voice shows no sign of remorse. I wonder absently if this man was one of the many who tortured Finnick and I. If so, a bullet in the brain is exactly what he deserves.

The man begins to cry. "W-we're the only ones on duty here," he gasps. "No one else should be coming down here for another couple of hours, unless we call for them."

Finnick presses the gun harder into the side of the guard's head. "And did you?" he growls. His eyes have narrowed to slits.

"N-no!" But Finnick must see another answer in the man's eyes, because a moment later a shot slices through the air, cutting off any more words he might have added. The life leaves his eyes and he crumples to the ground in a heap.

Dead, like so many others.

"Take their guns, Katniss," he tells me monotonously. I don't question him; us victors know the feeling after a kill. We know the coldness, the emty feeling.

Silently, I collect the two remaining guns and follow Finnick into the darkness of the corridor.

* * *

_Oh god. Please don't base my writing off of this chapter... I'm reading it over and.. and.. D: _

_I haven't written in FOREVER, thanks to my mindlessness. I accidentally unsubscribed fanfiction from my mailing list, and now I don't get any chapter/story updates OR reviews from my readers. It SUCKS. _

_If anyone knows how to fix this, PLEASE tell me. I'm desperate. D:_

_I'm so grateful to those of you who are still sticking by me, because if I were you, I would have lost all hope in me updating. I know. I have _turtle speed_. :/_

_You guys are the best. *hearts*_


	10. Chapter 10

As we walk we keep our eyes open for any cameras that may be lining the ceiling or walls of the corridor. Surprisingly, there aren't any visible ones from the looks of it. But if I know anything at all about the Capitol's technology, they are capable of anything. The cameras are most likely hidden beneath the surface of the concrete somehow.

"We'd have a better chance just taking the time we have and go hide somewhere else," I remark. There's no use waiting for the other guards to catch up with us.

Finnick doesn't answer me right away, so I pause my steps to look back at him. He's slowed down a lot and I've just now noticed the blood trailing from his nose. He must have been punched during our break-out.

"I don't think it'd help us," Finnick says. "They've already been called, so I'd say we're screwed either way. Maybe we can figure out where the others are, if they are here."

"They are," I blurt. "Or, at least some of them..."

Finnick narrows his eyes at me. "What exactly do you know that you aren't telling me?"

I swallow. I would have told him as soon as we'd woken up, but I can't bring myself to say it out loud. I can't bring myself to admit that it's true, that this could actually be happening to us, to Peeta.

"Well?" he asks.

I run my fingers along the side of the wall and begin taking more steps forward. The corridor ahead seems frightening and endless. "When I was waking up, before they brought me to your room, I heard some of them talking. They said something about... about Peeta. At least, I assume it was him they were talking about. They said that the physical pain I was enduring was nothing compared to the emotional pain I would feel watching 'him' be tortured senseless."

Finnick freezes beside me, his expression calculating. "Maybe they meant me. I mean, I know we aren't the closest, but we're on the same side here. That could be why they brought you to watch my session."

If only. "I don't know, Finnick. It really seemed like they meant him. We have to try to find him, just in case."

"We could get caught again! Do you really want to risk something like that, when we have no idea where he could be? We don't even know where _we_ are!" he exclaims. His voice echoes loudly down the corridor and we both lower our voices.

"He could be with Annie, Finnick. They could have taken her while we were gone, so that they'd have you at a weak point," I tell him. I can't believe he'd even suggested leaving without the others, but he'll understand once I've sunk to his level.

Sure enough, his eyes widen with the realisation that I could be right. Annie could just as well be in danger as well. I can see the struggle going on in his head. This is a fight or flight situation, and wasting any more time here could be what kills us. But we both know that we can't leave the others to die. Their lives are just as important as our own. Peeta's life is more important than my own.

Finnick licks his lips nervously and nods. "Where do we start?" he whispers.

Tightening my hold on the gun, I point it towards the place we first came from, back down the corridor where our cells were. Finnick and I's weren't too far apart, so the others must be close-by. He agrees.

We half walk, half jog back towards our starting point, trying to be as silent as possible in our bare feet. My gown blows behind me as we move and I wonder briefly where they've put my arena clothes. I long for the stench and filfth of them, for the tight material on my limbs. I feel like I can scarcely move in something as flimsy as this. Finnick must feel the same way because in no time he's ripping the side off his gown, leaving him running in practically nothing but underwear. I do the same.

When we reach our cells, the guards are still lying there unconscious or dead, with small pools of blood around their wounds. Nothing else appears to have changed.

"Where are their back-up?" Finnick mumbles rhetorically. I wonder the same thing.

But it appears he'd spoken too soon, because a moment later I can hear voices and loud boots plumetting through the corridor we'd just come from.

"Shit," I gasp. Finnick wastes no time. He grabs my hand and we're running again through the darkness. It appears to be getting more and more narrow and cold as we move, and no other doors are lining the walls.

"This way!" a voice yells, his words bouncing off the walls. "I can hear them!"

My heart begins a frantic beating in my chest, like a bird caught under my skin. My breath hitches and I feel suddenly as if I am in the arena, running from Careers. Except this time I have no trees to climb and no bushes to hide in. Just the endless blackness of the corridor infront of me, without any escape whatsoever.

In this time I run faster than I've ever ran in my entire life. My legs seem to be carrying me through the hall, making it so that I don't even have to think to go as fast as a blur.

"Turn here," Finnick gasps, and ducks suddenly into a hole I hadn't even seen in the wall. How he had, I have no idea.

I launch myself after him and find that it isn't only a hidding place, but an entirely new corridor. This maze has just become even more complicated than it'd seemed.

"How'd you see that?" I pant, amazed but grateful. I can hear the men contemplating which way to turn, and splitting up. This is good; less work for us.

"I don't know," he answers. But there's something in his voice that for some reason makes me not believe him.

We sprint and turn down different corridors, changing direction until we're certain we've lost all of the guards on our backs. Their voices and feet have long since faded. They've turned the wrong way somewhere.

Exhausted, I slide down the side of the wall and try to calm my loud breathing. "Looks like we lost them," I say to Finnick, smiling slightly in relief.

He turns towards me and says wickedly, "Have we?" It's then I notice the glow in his eyes. The unnatural, crazed glow.

I move away from him, into a crouched position. "Finnick..."

And he pounces at me.

A fist connects with my jaw and I cry out, instinctively lashing out at the heavy weight on top of me. I hear my gun skid along the floor away from me in the back of my head, and I begin to really panic. Being in a fight is one thing, but being in a fight without any weapons is another problem entirely. Finnick growls as I manage to somehow kick him in the stomach, but throws his full body weight onto me once again.

I remember thinking before my Games that hand-on-hand combat would always be the hardest for me, based on my small size. And up until now it hadn't actually been an issue; I'd always somehow managed to escape my way into distanced fighting, with my bow and arrows. I've never felt more weak and empty-handed than I do right now. I long for Gale's protection, or Peeta's strength.

Predictably, in a matter of seconds I'm pressed up against Finnick's back, his strong arms locked under my throat. I squirm futilely, hitting his arms with my hands. I can feel blood dripping down my face, and the foul, metallic taste soon fills my mouth. I spit it onto the floor.

"Traitor," I gasp. My chest aches with a painful feeling of betrayal and hurt.

Finnick laughs and another voice joins his own. "Before you begin your wailing and cursing, my dear, please be rest assured that he has not yet betrayed you. I've simply taken over his mind for the time being."

President Snow makes his way over to where we stand, two Peacekeepers in tow. I gather up some more blood from my mouth and spit it at him (a last resort I've come to like in these past few years). It lands on his suit and slides down the shiny material like a snake.

"Lovely," he says, wiping it off with his finger and spreading it down my cheek like paint. Snow looks me up and down and I squirm under his gaze, feeling as if I am completely naked standing infront of him.

"Go to hell," I growl.

"Why would I go to a place that does not exist?" he asks me, "Hell is just an imaginary place for imaginative people. I, on the other hand, would much rather take you somewhere special, where we can really get to know eachother better."

Somehow, his idea of 'somewhere special' doesn't seem so special to me. I swallow hard and wish more than ever that I wasn't so alone in this nightmare.

* * *

As we make our way towards whatever Snow has planned for me, I wonder where everyone else is, what they're doing. Not just the ones who are caught, but the ones who managed to escape. I wonder if my family is safe, if they were somehow saved in the chaos of the arena exploding. I pray that they are, because surely if they were just sitting at home in the Victor's Village, they would have long ago been taken in by Snow's men. That's the last thing I want.

I wonder, too, about Haymitch. By the sounds of it, there is a full blown war raging outside these tunnels. There must have been much more going on with the mentors than I'd originally thought for there to suddenly be an army of rebels going up against the Capitol. Surely Gale is a part of it too. And surely they are planning some crazy rescue mission at this very moment. The desperate part of me hopes they are. Anything to get Peeta out safely, no matter what the cost.

Eventually I am blindfolded (although I see no reason why it is necessary; I'm going to die anyway) and Zombie Finnick needs to steer me through the hall to follow wherever Snow is headed. The air temperature rises so I know that we're back to the cells again.

"Watch your step," someone tells me venomously. I trip into the room they've brought me to and am almost immediately strapped to a chair that feels like stone. Lovely.

I decide to provoke them a little. By this point I don't care what they do to me; I'm going down fighting no matter what kind of pain they put me through. "Do what you want to me, Snow," I put as much fake casualty into my voice as I can muster. "You'll never win this. You'll never get the satisfaction of hearing me defeated."

"You may think so now, Katniss, but we're only just getting started. Don't be so sure of yourself."

"Torturing me doesn't make you stronger," I say.

Snow snickers. "Is this your poor attempt at talking me out of it?"

"Is this your poor attempt at keeping me under your slimy fingers? The rebels will have me out of here in no time." I try to sound as confident as I can, although I know absolutely nothing about what the rebels have planned.

Suddenly I feel hot breath on my face. "What did you just say?" he snarls.

I am genuinely stunned for a moment. "Wh-"

"_What did you just say?" _President Snow is legitimately yelling now, right in my face. "What do you know about the rebels? What do they have planned?"

"I-I don't know," I stammer. My head is spinning. "I don't know anything about the rebels."

"Don't lie to me!" he shouts angrily, all of his self-control blown out the window.

I hear a sudden beep and my body errupts into waves of unimaginable, indescribable agony. My veins are lit on fire, my bones are being crushed, my brain is exploding out of my skull. My chest heaves and I let loose the loudest screams I've ever made. This pain is like nothing I could have imagined, worse than what he did to me before, by a million.

...And suddenly, it stops, and I'm back in the chair with beads of sweat rolling down my face and gasping, choking sounds coming from my throat.

"Now, tell me again what they are going to do," demands Snow. And just as quickly as it had come, all of my courage leaves me and I begin to shake, because never have I ever truly not known what to do.

"I swear," I tell him. "I don't know anything."

"I really thought we wouldn't have to do this, Katniss."

The beep sounds again and I find myself drowning, for the second time, in the worst pain imaginable.

* * *

_"You can do it, Kit-Kat. I know you can," my father tells me, guiding my fingers back onto the bow. His hands are warm and his encouragements make me all the more frustrated._

_"No I can't," I grumble angrily. "I'll never be able to do it like you can!"_

_My father sits me down on a big rock we found together and looks me straight in the eye. "Katniss, I have the most confidence in you than I've ever had in anything. You may think you can't now, but in no time you'll be shooting better than anyone, myself included. You'll be unstoppable." He wipes away a few frustrated tears that have fallen from my eyes._

_I sniffle and look up at the waves of greying black hair in his eyes, at the lines on his face that make him my father - the person I trust more than anyone else in this world. "How do you know?" I ask softly._

_"Because the first time I saw you shoot, you got the most dedicated look in your eyes. And right then, I knew that you'd be the most talented huntress out there. Even now, I still know it. It just takes time," he tells me._

_So I stood up with a revived confidence, took my aim, and hit the very center of the bull's eye._

_My father smiles. "That's my girl."_

* * *

It's crazy how much time can slow down when you're stuck somewhere for so long, your mind completely gone. I was tortured for days on end, until the point where I was certain my heart had stopped beating altogether. But somehow, it hadn't. It keeps beating, no matter how faint the sound is in my ears.

In the few hours between sessions, when I lie on the floor of my cell staring at one spot in the room, my mind wanders to other things, the main destination being Peeta. I haven't been brought to him yet, like they'd said I would at first, so I have a small, rising hope in my heart that he miraculously is safe, that what Finnick had suggested was true and they hadn't meant him after all.

Sometimes I picture him sitting somewhere safe with the rest of the rebels, planning the rescue that I am beginning to lose hope in now. I picture hiim frantically telling Haymitch or whoever else that something needs to be done, that we can't just be left here to suffer. And I see him crying for me, missing me as much as I miss him, and my heart aches even more.

And as much as I hate myself to think it, I wish in these small moments that he were here with me, to hold me when I cry and to stop my body from shaking. I wish that he were here to tell me that everything would be okay, even when we both knew it wouldn't be. I miss the haven of his arms, the curve of his lips, and the blueness of his eyes.

I miss him so much it hurts.

* * *

One day is different from the rest. I wake up as I normally do on the cold, tiled floor to find myself face-to-face with an ugly man whose eyes are much too small for his face. He smacks me across the face to wake me up and shoves me back against the wall, just as he always does. I don't fight him; I don't do much of anything. I've come to prefer staying silent rather than raging them on even more. They don't get any information from me either way.

"We have a surprise for you today," the man tells me. I stare unblinkingly at him, but he says nothing else.

I'm put in handcuffs that burn my wrists when turned on, and we begin our usual walk down the darkened corridor. Ever since Zombie Finnick and I's escape from the cell, there have been Peacekeepers lined up along the wall every two meters or so, just in case I ever plan something. Not that I would, with their guns pointed at my skull like that, but it's a precaution they feel is necessary.

When we get to the door of my torture cell, I automatically turn my body to go into it, to get this hell over with for the next while. But to my surprise, I'm led to the next cell.

My senses are now on high alert. I've never been in this room before. My mind spins and names flash through my head as I try to decipher who might be waiting for me in here, apart from the usual guards and Snow. Have they brought me to stay with another prisoner?

At first when I step in, I don't realise what is infront of me. I can see the back of Snow's head, based on the splotchy grey hair and dark suit. And I can see manacles going from the two top corners of the room and the two bottom corners of the room towards something in the middle, something standing directly infront of the president.

And then I hear his screams, and I see a flash of blonde hair, and I know.

Everything I'd wake up screaming from, everything I'd prayed not to happen, is now right infront of my eyes. He was never safe. He was always here, suffering along with me.

"NO!" I cry. I can feel my heart breaking into a million pieces with every agonized scream that bites the air.

Snow turns around to look at me and smiles maliciously. "Ah, Katniss," he says. His finger pauses on the botton controlling the manacles and Peeta falls to a heap, his body shaking with tremors. I can't see his face. "So nice of you to join us."

With an animal-like scream, I throw myself towards Snow, wanting to beat that grin right off his face. I have never wanted to kill him more than I do right now. I have never hated _anything _more than I do right now. This feeling, this burning inside of me, is all of the flames I've held in as the Girl On Fire, coming back in this one moment. I want to stand infront of President Snow and watch him suffer the way we've been suffering, and I want to kill him with my own bare hands.

His guards take me down before I can move more than a meter towards him, but Snow calmly insists that once he is back in the protection of his bodyguards they can remove my cuffs and let me see Peeta.

"Are you sure, boss?" one asks incredulously. I am just as stunned but ask no questions. Peeta is merely a few meters away. I have to see him, hold him, touch him, if one more time.

"Yes, we might as well let them say goodbye before we continue with their torture. The girl is next. He gets to watch." Snow grins happily and goes to stand behind some of his guards.

I'm removed from my cuffs and immediately rush towards Peeta, crying my eyes out.

"Peeta," I sob. "Peeta, look at me. It's me. It's Katniss."

I take his face in my hands and lift it to look at me. His eyes are fluttering, his skin bruised to the point of blackness in some places. But he's beautiful to me. Beautiful and still alive.

"Mmm," he moans.

"Open your eyes," I say desperately. My voice has dropped to a broken whisper. "Please open your eyes for me, Peeta."

His breath suddenly hitches and his eyes open fully. His skin may be cut and bruised and bloodied, but his eyes will always be the same breathtaking blue. His smile will always be radiant. "Katniss," he breathes, as if he can't believe I am here. I can hardly believe it myself.

I clutch his gown to my face and breath in the smell of him. Neither of us have bathed in who knows how long, but I can't seem to care. I caress his cheeks with my fingers and kiss him as softly as I can. His lips are scorching on mine, but it feels so good to be close to him like this again that I hardly notice it at all.

Just as quickly as we'd been reunited, one of Snow's guards lifts me off my feet and moves me away from him. "Let me go!" I scream, speaking my first words to them in weeks.

"Unfortunately for you, that's all the time you get. Hope you made good use of it," Snow smiles at me. Some kind of film plays out in my head involving me blasting him to bits. My usual daydreams.

I'm hooked up to manacles on the other side of the room - across from Peeta - and Snow walks over to stand infront of me, making sure not to block Peeta's view of the scene about to unfold. The remote is passed from the guards to Snow's hands, and just as his finger comes down on the botton, just as Peeta cries out in anger and the first waves of pain hit me, a white flash of light hits the room and everyone apart from Peeta and I are thrown to the floor.

Looks like the rebels have finally decided to take action.

* * *

**It's almost hard to believe that this story was originally just going to be a one-shot. I'm so glad I was convinced (by my amazing reviewers, of course) to continue it!**

**Review, please (:**


	11. Chapter 11

When the blast erupts, the only things protecting me from injury, ironically, are the manacles I was forced into. They were attached so tightly to me wrists and ankles that when the room is hit by god-knows-what, I don't move at all.

At first, dust is all I can see. Dust from the shattered walls, the shattered ceiling, the shattered floor... it's everywhere, so thick that for the first few moments following the invasion, I can't see anything at all - I can only hear. Screams and gunshots are the first things I can register - gunshots that are fired off probably by Snow's guards, sent off without any aim or idea where they may be going. Gunshots that are fired solely out of desperation.

The other sound, the biggest one, is like a helicopter flying right over your head. It blasts from over me and I crane my head to try to see what it is, to see if it's coming to save us, but as soon as I open my eyes they're filled with dust and I have to squeeze them shut again.

Standing here tied to manacles in a destroyed room, being shoved from side to side by people, wind, and debris, I experience the most hopeless feeling. There's only one explanation for this and it must be that we're finally, after all those months, being rescued, but at first all I can register is the fact that while there are raging fights going on around me, I'm strapped to a wall with nothing to do but wait or be killed.

The screams and sounds rage on and I try to decipher a voice in the crowd, try to hear for anyone I recognize, but it's too loud and I can't concentrate.

Time goes by impossibly slow during a jail-break. It seems as though everything in the world is happening at once, in one single moment that lasts forever. But before I even know what's happening, a body is pressed up against me and yelling briskly in my ear, in a deep, familliar voice.

"Hold still! Don't move until I tell you to!"

It must be Gale. I can tell by his voice and the way his rough hands feel against my wrists as he takes apart the straps holding me to this nightmare. They move quickly and desperately but I can feel myself becoming closer to freedom with every second that passes by us.

The air is still filled with dust and ash but I start to see what is happening around me. There are bodies laying all over the floor and what looks like flames somewhere in the distance. Most of the building appears to have been destroyed and I wonder how I could've survived this without a scratch.

My heart is beating the speed of a race horse. There is so much around me - so much noise and chaos and death - that I suddenly feel as though I won't be able to stand much longer. Gale has moved on to my ankles and I slump forward onto his shoulders, dark spots dancing across my vision as I start to feel closer and closer to being out of here.

One more ankle. My eyes flutter shut but I force them back open. I try to keep myself conscious but it's as though my brain has caught up to my body and all I can feel is the remaining pain from who-knows-what.

In a sort of daze, I look up past Gale's shoulder and see a dark shape coming towards us. Through the dust it becomes bigger and bigger as it comes closer and I feel my eyes open fully and my heart begin to pound in my head.

"Gale," I say, but my voice sounds hollow and I don't think he can hear me. "Gale."

The shape is comes closer. Now I can see that it's a person - a man - running towards us with some sort of long weapon raised above his head.

I scream Gale's name and I think this time he might've heard me because he starts to yell about my last ankle strap, how it won't come undone and how he's trying everything he can.

"Gale! NO!" I force his head around and he sees what I've been trying to tell him; the person is so much closer now and we only have a few seconds before we'll both be killed if we don't move.

I feel so trapped and so doomed that in that moment I wonder what it will feel like to die. Gale is frantically pulled at my ankle manacle and calling for help, but I know that there's nothing we can do anymore. I pray that he moves and just lets me die, instead of dying with me.

But a moment later I am suddenly pulled out of the way of the man and I hear his screams getting farther and farther away, coming from below me. My ankle feels as though it is on fire, like it's been ripped out of it's socket, but looking down, I see the building moving farther and farther away.

* * *

I'm lifted into the hovercraft and put onto a stretcher immediately, my body shaking and my eyes darting from place to place. I see Haymitch looming above me and there's so much that I want to say.

I think of all the ways that I can thank him and all of the things that I can ask him, but instead, the only thing that comes out of my mouth is, "Peeta."

I wonder how I hadn't thought of him before, in the midst of everything that was happening. I was so caught up in my own surroundings that for those short seconds I didn't wonder where he was, I just let myself believe that he would be okay instead of letting myself think too much, worry too much.

But now that I'm freed, Peeta is the only thing that is in my head. I need to see his face again, to hear him breathing, and to know that when I was saved, so was he.

So when another stretcher is pulled up beside mine and I hear my name is his familiar, perfect voice, all I can do is reach for his hand and hold on tighter than I've ever held someone before. And hope, with everything in me, that I never have to let go again.


End file.
